Murder by Death Was Better as a Movie
by htewing
Summary: Sequel to Of Psychics and FBI Profilers: When you're met by an UnSub with a fascination for outsmarting people, lots of money, and a big house, things are gonna get weird. PsychxCM with cameos from Whoever Fights Zombies. HIATUS.
1. Prologue

A/N: Here is the sequel (OMGWTFBBQ?!) or at least the prologue. I can't guarantee that it'll get updated a lot due to the insanity that is my current semester but my goal is to finish it by June. And no, I have no idea when the next chapters will get posted. But . . . this is gonna be _extremely_ long.

Enjoy for now!

(Also, _Of Psychics and FBI Profilers_ is nominated for Best Mystery, SBPD, and the Back to the Future awards on Psychfic. Y'all should vote. Voting closes March 6th.)

***

"_Armageddon is almost upon us."  
"I got news for you - it's already here..."  
"But your souls are in danger."  
"Our lives are in danger, you beatnik."_

_- "Clue"  
_

**Prologue**

_Somewhere that certainly ISN'T Santa Barbara, 2014_

Shawn Spencer was relieved when his mouth worked, allowing him to emit a low groan. He had been lying in the same position for over, by his guess, a whole day, and as feeling started to return to his muscles he found himself slowly moving, first to his arms and then his knees.

He didn't remember much of the trip. He had ended up falling asleep every so often only to be woken back up by his father's struggling next to him. For some reason, they hadn't drugged him like they had Shawn; only knocked him out long enough to get him secured in whatever vehicular apparatus they had found themselves in, which for a long while was a _helicopter_. A _helicopter_. Then, Shawn remembered being dragged out and into this room, where he was tossed face-down on the floor and had remained, alone, for over an hour.

Okay, so maybe it _wasn't_ for a whole day. But it'd be a pretty damn long time.

Shawn blinked and looked around the room. It was simple enough, about the size of a closet. A door was illuminated by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Shawn pulled himself up on the wall.

"Door," he muttered, forcing his still-numb legs to move forward. As he reached for the handle, a voice sounded behind him.

"Shawn Spencer."

He spun, forgetting his weakened status, and collapsed. A screen had lit up on the back wall of the closet. "What? Where am I?"

"Welcome to the Mansion," the dark figure on the screen said. _Definitely female_. "You have been brought here to face a test."

"Great. I _love_ tests." Shawn pulled himself up by the doorknob, scanning the figure on the screen for any sort of recognizable feature. "Where's my dad? What have you done with him?"

The figure chuckled. "Patience, Mr. Spencer. All we be explained. Your father is in a room very similar to this, as are the other members of your team. It is your first task to find them."

"My team?" Shawn shook his head as if to clear his mind from the fog it was finding itself in. "Wait – Gus?! What did you do to Gus?!"

"All will be explained," she said again. "You will find your door unlocked now. There is a key on the floor outside that will unlock your team members' doors. They are scattered throughout the Mansion. Once you have found them, you will receive further instruction. Good luck, Mr. Spencer."

"Okay, look. Maybe we got off on the wrong –" The image vanished, and Shawn sighed. "Or not. Okay. Gotta find Gus and dad. Dad and Gus. Hopefully one of them has food. Or water. Or _something_." Shawn pushed open the door and staggered out into a hallway spanning shooting off to his right. With a grimace and a newfound appreciation for walls, he staggered off towards the end of the hallway, but stopped when a door closed behind him. He turned, only to see someone he'd never thought he'd see again.

"Shawn Spencer?"

"Agent/Doctor Spencer Reid?"


	2. Chapter 1: Erin Strauss' Wake Up Calls

A/N: You all have absolutely NO IDEA how happy you make me. Luckily for us all, my crazy 20-credits of junior-level classes has all but ended and I have nothing to do but work on this story, my original book, and my two summer classes. And grad school, but who cares. I'll put up a couple chapters over the next week and hopefully have quite a bit done before I leave school next weekend.

And thanks to those who voted at Psychfic, I got the Silver Pineapple award for Back to the Future, and felt even more loved.

Also, this is approximately 5 years after _Of Psychics and FBI Profilers._ I'm assuming that basic technology is stagnant, people have not invented teleportation, and my specific area of choice looks the same 5 years from now.

Enjoy, everyone!

_Yes, dear, we're going to have a lovely murderpoo._

– _Jessica Marbles, "Murder by Death"_

**Chapter 1: Erin Strauss: Putting the "Bad" in "Wake-Up Calls" Since...A Long Time Ago**

_About 6 Hours Earlier_

Reid carefully balanced the bag containing the precious commodity he'd run to the store for as he unlocked his car. With a tired sigh he tossed the coffee into his backseat. It'd been a necessary run. If he didn't make it, the ensuing morning would be . . . well . . .

"Sir!" He closed the back door and turned as a woman sprinted up to him. "Can you help me?"

"Um . . . what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I think there might be someone in my car."

"Okay, uh . . . where's your car?" Reid locked his door and followed her to a large Explorer nearby. "Is it unlocked?"

She clicked the button. "It is now."

Reid inspected around the car. "It looks like if there was anyone here, they're gone. But I can check in the backseat for you."

"Please do."

He opened the door, and was tackled by someone who made one of Morgan's tackles seem like a pat on the back. Winded, Reid found the gazillion pound man blindfolding him and cuffing his hands.

"Whoa, okay, what –" Reid finally, breathily, found his voice. "Okay, look, this isn't a good idea. I'm a federal agent, and this –"

"I know who you _are_, Agent Reid," the man answered, and Reid inhaled sharply as something pricked his arm. _Drugs. Not drugs. No. Not good. _"Now, just relax." A tingling sensation started to creep through the young agent's limbs as the man pulled him up and into the backseat of the Explorer.

"Well, he's the last one," the female said, from a direction that suggested she was behind the wheel.

"Where're we meeting the 'copter?"

_Helicopter?_ Reid felt the tingling sensation tempered by absolute panic.

"Not too far."

"Good."

_Oh, hell_. Reid tried to move his mouth to speak, to say anything, to placate the situation, to get them to release whoever else they had – and found his body refused to cooperate.

"What about the one?" The woman spoke again.

"He'll be fine."

"He looks rough."

"An accident was the only way we were _only_ getting him. We'll dose him up at the field. He should be awake by then."

_Who _are_ these people?!_ Reid groaned inwardly. _Great. And I was on a roll at avoiding serial killers too. _

_And where the hell are we going?!_

#

_Same time, Across the Country_

"What am I missing?"

Henry Spencer resisted rolling his eyes. "I don't know, Shawn. But sometimes an accident's just an accident."

"But what about the missing screws? Or the explosion? _Or_ the bullet wound?"

"What _motive_ do you have, Shawn?"

Shawn glared at him over the table, but couldn't quite find a response. Finally, he answered, "You are _so_ frustrating."

"_I'm_ frustrating? Then what the hell are you?"

"I don't know. More attractive? Fun? _Awesome_?"

"Don't _even_ go there, Shawn."

"Seriously. What am I –" Shawn's eyes locked on a mounted fish behind Henry's head, and –

_Fishing poles at the scene –_

_Newspaper – "Fishing Tournament Winner 1 Million Richer" –_

_"Mike McFarland Wins Santa Barbara Fishing Tournament" – _

_Juliet – "The victim was Lesa McFarland" –_

"Dude!" Shawn jumped to his feet triumphantly. "I got it!"

"Shaw—_Shawn_! Do _not_ run out –" Henry yelled at his son's retreating back.

Shawn was halfway to his bike when someone tackled him to the soft grass. About to give a sharp retort about how his father should stop trying to arrest him, he was cut off by a sharp, pricking sensation in the side of his neck.

"Huh?" He got out before his attacker had blindfolded and cuffed him. The roar of an engine announced the arrival of what sounded like an SUV. "Dude, really?!"

"Get the other one. No drugs," his attacker barked to someone else. "I'll be in in a second." Shawn found himself hauled into the SUV, and over the pins-and-needles feeling in his legs he decided that _now _would be a good time to start yelling – but found that his mouth, for once, was not cooperating.

Something was hauled into the backseat of the SUV, and they started moving. A jerk sent Shawn's lax, uncooperative head slumping onto a familiar, unmoving shoulder – and his panic rose.

_Gus?! Where the hell are we going?_

_Is Mike McFarland this much of a bastard?!_

#

A shrill ring cut through the otherwise still night. JJ's hand fumbled for the phone, knocking it off the cradle. As it angrily rang at her again, she managed to locate the _speak_ button.

"Jennifer Jareau," she yawned, trying her best to sound alert.

_Agent Jareau, this is Section Chief Erin Strauss_.

_Just how I want to be woken up_. "Ma'am, what's the problem?" JJ glanced at the clock. _3:15 A.M._

_Agent Hotchner's vehicle was found a few miles from his home, wrapped around a tree._ There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in Strauss' voice. JJ felt her throat clog up.

"God – is he okay?"

_Dav – Agent Rossi abandoned his '66 Corvette along the road to his home. A few miles away they found Agent Prentiss' car, also abandoned. _

"Abandon – ma'am, what's this about?"

_Agent Reid's vehicle was found abandoned in a parking lot not far from his home. _

"Ma'am, what's going _on_?!"

_I was hoping you could tell me, Agent Jareau._

"I can guarantee that they haven't signed a disappearing pact, ma'am. And Rossi wouldn't abandon _that_ car."

_I know, Agent Jareau. I need you to contact your analyst and Agent Morgan, the only others unaccounted for. Report to Quantico immediately. I cannot stress how _bad_ this looks._

"Are – yes, ma'am." Strauss hung up, and JJ was immediately out of bed and digging through her closet. Will was awake by then, concern scrawled across his still half-awake face.

"JJ. What's wrong?"

"Members of the team are disappearing en masse," JJ summed up. "I have to go in."

Will scrunched his forehead. "Even Hotch?"

"They found _his_ car around a tree."

"God." Will scratched his head. "Be safe, JJ. I'll get Henry off to school."

"Thanks, Will."

"Just come back safe. Be careful."

JJ hurried out the door, dialing Garcia's number as she did. "I always am."

#

Karen Vick was, to put it frankly, _pissed_.

First, the newly-promoted _Detective_ McNabb had called her around 12:12 A.M. to tell her that she was needed at, of all places, the Psych office. Fully ready to kill both McNabb and Spencer – and steeling herself for the ensuing jail time – she arrived to be blinded by the flashing lights of police cruisers and crime scene technicians, and in the middle of it all was Lassiter's dead, non-flashing sedan.

And now, no one would tell her what the hell was going on.

She finally caught McNabb's eye and he hurried over. "Chief. Um . . . the techs are still going through the office, but – um – it looks like Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, and Gus, were abducted."

Vick swore, and McNabb looked like she'd smacked him across the face. "How? How could someone get them all down at once?"

"Um . . . the techs found several needles they're going to run for trace analysis."

Great. Now she had two detectives and one half of a consulting team running around drugged up. "Have you heard from Mr. Spencer?"

"Shawn isn't answering his phone, but there's a note on Gus' desk that says he was going over to Mr. Spencer's."

"Take someone and get over there."

"Right away, Chief." McNabb grabbed his partner and headed for a nearby car.

Once he was away, Vick stopped one of the techs. "What's going on?"

"Well, ma'am, it looks as if Mr. Guster was ambushed. We haven't yet learned what Detective Lassiter and Detective O'Hara were doing here."

Vick sighed. There went _her_ opportunity to sleep tonight. "I want a full report as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am."

#

"Hello, Washington Memorial? This is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'm calling to see if you have an Agent Aaron Hotchner admitted with injuries from a car accident? No? What about any other federal agents admitted in the past night? No to that, too? Okay. If any come in, will you let me know? Thank you." JJ hung up. "No luck."

Garcia shook her head. "None at the ones I've tried. Where could they be, Jayje?"

"I don't know, Garcia." JJ let her head fall into her hands. As they sat here, crime scene technicians were scouring their friends' cars in the FBI lab, and another team was combing through the AWOL Morgan's house as well. So now, it was _just_ them. "But I really don't like this."

"Have you had any luck, Agent Jareau?" Strauss' voice echoed from the door. JJ shook her head.

"Nothing yet. None of them have shown up to any of the hospitals or clinics in the area."

Strauss sighed. "The grocery store has provided their security feed from the parking lot where Agent Reid's car was found."

Garcia literally snatched the DVD out of Strauss' hands and slipped it into one of her computers. They watched as Reid pulled up and left his car, returning a few minutes later balancing a few cans of coffee. Neither JJ or Garcia could help a small smile.

Just after he closed the passenger door, a woman approached him. They exchanged a few words, and he followed her to the large Ford Explorer just visible in the corner of the screen. Maybe a minute later, the Explorer vanished – and so did Reid.

"I'll get an APB out on the car," JJ said, immediately opening her phone. "Can you get a good view of the woman, Garcia?"

"I'm working on it." Garcia began rewinding the footage until she could start zooming in.

"Just let me know when you have any news." Strauss turned and left. Garcia glanced up at JJ.

"Is it just me, or is she concerned?"

"Most of our team just vanished, Garcia." JJ held up her hand. "Hello, this is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I need to issue a nationwide APB . . ."


	3. Chapter 2: Lock, Stock, and Panick

A/N: I just finished my junior year of college! o_O. And realized I forgot two things in the last section.

Rose: The date is more of a "I just wanted a longer amount of time to pass," basically. Two years was the other option, but it ended up feeling too short.

Vault711: I hadn't thought of that, but it is a valid option. I probably won't write anything though, primarily because I get the feeling that whatever Steve Franks and co come up with will be ten times better than anything I could write.

Tarapandaes: Well thanks, and thanks for telling me about Psychfic! Getting an award made my day, but that's because I'm so insecure about my work half the time …

The-vampire-act: All in good time, all in good time. And about the author alert, that's just weird.

Vivian: Thanks :)

Sfulton229, Wraith Ink-Slinger, Nymphadora-CullenBAU, hpmyman, wickedfire, licelie Lala Bubbleberry, Love-in-the-Stars, animalluvr123: Thanks guys!

**Chapter 2: Lock, Stock, and Panick**

"_Wadsworth, are we the only ones in the house?"  
"No."  
"No, we're not the only ones?"  
"Sorry, I meant no as in yes."  
_-_ Clue_

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I should be asking you that."

"I asked first."

"I don't _know_ what I'm doing here. I only know that I left three cans of coffee in my backseat and I'd like them back. So what are _you_ doing here?"

"I don't know either. But right now I think I'm supposed to be looking for my 'team.'"

"Wait – you saw it to?"

"What, the creepy chick? Yeah."

"Okay. That makes a little more sense, then. So I assume you have one of these?" Reid held up a key. Shawn looked down at the one in his hand.

"Yeah, I do. I need to find my dad and Gus. They're the only two I know of."

Reid grimaced. "I don't know who's here, but I'm assuming they're all my coworkers."

"Wow. Abducting a bunch of feds – that's ambitious."

"Tell me about it." Reid studied Shawn intently. "You don't seem like your normal self."

"Waking up in a strange place without full function in your legs'll do that to you."

"True. Okay. Let's, uh, start seeing who's here."

"Okay." Shawn glanced behind Reid down the hallway. "Have you checked those doors?"

"Yeah. They were all unlocked."

"Okay. So which way –"

"Reid?!" Someone yelled. Reid jumped.

"Rossi? Rossi, where are you?"

The agent in question rounded a corner at the middle of the hallway. "I thought I heard you. Do _you_ know what's going on?"

"I think the others are here somewhere," Reid explained. "This video feed informed me that I needed to find the rest of my 'team.' Shawn's in the same boat."

"Shaw –" Rossi glanced at the fake psychic. "God. Okay. We need to start looking – Hotch was in bad shape when they –"

"What'd they do to him?"

"They had to wreck his car to get him. They already had me. I didn't see him but from the discussion it sounded bad."

Shawn had started off down the hallway, testing doors. Reid started to follow him. "Wait, Rossi – how'd you get out? I have the key."

Rossi chuckled. "They didn't check my shoes. I always follow Rule 9."

"Rule 9?" Reid asked.

"'Always carry a knife.'"

"Where'd you pick that up from?"

Rossi paused. "I'll have to explain that later."

They looked up just in time to see Shawn push in a door and be jerked through, and hurried to catch up.

Meanwhile, Shawn found himself slammed against the wall, Lassiter gripping the front of his shirt with his face mere inches away. "What am I doing here, punk?" He snapped.

"Dude. Lassie-face. Enough with the dramatics." Lassiter released him like a plagued rat and stepped back.

"Spencer! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving _you_, Lassie, what else?"

"I don't _need _'saving!'"

"Who is it, Shawn?" Reid called from the hallway.

"Who was that?" Lassiter pointed.

"Well, whoever the creepy chick with the blacked-out face was decided that this would be the greatest place for a two-year reunion!" Shawn piped cheerily.

Lassiter groaned. "The BAU? _They're_ with u –" He stopped dead, his eyes affixed on the door. "Sweet justice – O'Hara and Guster."

This time, it was Shawn's turn to latch onto the front of Lassiter's shirt. "Jules is here? Where is she?"

"They got us together at your office."

Shawn reluctantly peeled himself off Lassiter's shirt. "Okay. We'll find them. Come on."

The duo stepped out into the hallway. Rossi nodded nonchalantly at Lassiter. "Hello again, Detective."

"Agent Rossi. Nice to see you again." The duo shook hands. Reid, meanwhile, had tried one of the next doors. It opened.

"Rossi!" Reid sprinted in, followed quickly by the other agent. Prentiss laid sprawled face-down on the floor. "Hey. Emily. You awake?"

"Uhnnnnnnng . . ." came the muffled reply. Rossi and Reid gently rolled her onto her back as the other two watched from the door. "Reid?"

"Yeah. And Rossi. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." They helped her sit up. "God . . . Mr. Spencer? Detective Lassiter?"

"Hi!" Shawn waved.

"What are . . . where _are_ we?" She lifted up her sleeve to wipe a thin layer of dried sweat off her face.

"We're trying to figure that out," Rossi answered. "But right now, we need to find the others."

"How many of us are here?" Prentiss struggled to her feet, her legs wobbling unsteadily.

"I know Hotch is here," Rossi said. "And us. As for the others, I don't know."

"I _knew_ I wasn't speeding," she muttered as they helped her out the door.

"I wasn't either," Rossi answered reassuringly.

"What'd they give us?" Prentiss asked. Reid shrugged.

"Some sort of neuromuscular blocking agent. They never dropped the names and the symptoms are mostly the same."

"Wait," Lassiter said. "When we were in the office, someone dropped a name. Pavulon. It's the drug –"

"Used in lethal injections," Reid finished.

"Yeah."

"You've listed five people who are here from Santa Barbara, right?" Rossi asked. Shawn and Lassiter shrugged. "You two, Shawn's father, Mr. Guster, and Detective O'Hara."

"Sounds right," Shawn answered.

"So we should have only one other here," Rossi summed up. "Probably Morgan."

"How do you figure?" Prentiss asked.

"Think about it. Most people think JJ is only the face of the team, and almost no one knows Garcia exists."

"Four males and a female in each group, too," Reid added.

"Look, I'd love to stand here and figure this out," Shawn interjected. "But right now, it sounds like your Agent Hotchner may be hurt, and I know they didn't drug my dad. So we need to find them."

"Your dad wasn't out for very long, though," Lassiter muttered. "He kept rocking the helicopter."

Shawn glared at him before trotting off down the hallway.

#

Vick glared at the preliminary trace report from the three syringes found at the Psych office, daring it to explain to her _why_ her people had to be targeted, why the Spencers were missing, and why the _hell_ they all had to be missing at once.

_Pancuronium – 100%_

_ Pancuronium, trade name "Pavulon," is a short-onset, long-acting non-depolarizing neuromuscular blocking agent used in general anesthesia for muscle relaxation, lethal injection, and in the protocol for euthanasia in Belgium and the Netherlands. It has an onset of approximately 90 seconds and a half-life of 1.5 to 2.7 hours. It causes no major side effects except for in the seriously ill. It can cause respiratory depression and potentially arrest. _

Vick put the paper down with a sigh. So her detectives were running around drugged up on the lethal-injection muscle relaxant with two police consultants and a retired police sergeant and she had no idea where they were, it had been over eight hours, and no progress on the case had been made.

"Chief?" McNabb stuck his head into her office.

"What, McNabb?" Vick snapped.

"Um, th-there's a nationwide APB you might be interested in." He handed it to her. She skimmed it and immediately swung to her phone, finding a number in her planner simultaneously.

_Agent Jareau_, a tired voice answered from the other end.

"This is Santa Barbara Chief of Police Karen Vick –"

_From five or so years ago? I remember you._

"Yes, from five or so years ago – look, we may have a problem. I just got your APB and—"

_Are they in Santa Barbara? _The voice picked up immensely. Vick sighed.

"If they are, we haven't seen them, but we're missing –"

_We've suspended cases for the time being, Chief, I'm sorry._

"No, it isn't that. We're missing Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, Mr. Guster, and Shawn and Henry Spencer."

There was a long, poignant pause on the other end. _Five. The same as we are. Four men and a woman._

"I hadn't noticed that pattern, but yes."

_How were they abducted?_

"It appears they called Lassiter and O'Hara to the scene of Guster's attack first, and then went after Henry and Spencer."

JJ paused again. _Look. There's no way these were _committed_ by the same person, but it may be that the same group is behind it. Can you send me all their recent casework so I can have our analyst run it against ours, to look for any connection?_

"I can do that. I'll let you know if I find anything out."

_I'll do the same. Thanks, Chief._

JJ hung up, and Vick glanced up at McNabb. "Let me know if there are any developments on that APB."

"Absolutely, Chief." He hurried out and Vick dropped her head in her hands. This might be a very long case.


	4. Chapter 3:    Enter, Stage Right

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I got . . . distracted. So . . . THANKS! You'll get 2 tonight to make up for it.

vampire-act: Nothing much. But just remember that all will be explained.

vivian: I know the feeling. Always glad to help.

sfulton: Strauss is gonna get to get out of the office again this time, much to JJ's chagrin. :) And a cookie of your choice for getting the shout out. I love any random mentions of Rule 9 on NCIS.

Jasmine: Yep, NCIS. I believe they did inform us that Gibbs was making it up, but the other Marine could have been too out of it to care.

Now, without further ado:

**Chapter 3: . . . Enter, Stage Right**

"_I think we picked ourselves a queer bird, angel."_

_- Sam Diamond, "Murder By Death"_

As the others started after Shawn, there was a loud, echoing crash accompanied by several Gus-like yells. Shawn broke into a run. "Gus! Buddy! Hold on!"

"_Shawn_!" came the muffled reply. "Shawn! Get me out of here!"

"Hold on!" Shawn fumbled to get his key in the door. "Okay, the door opens inwa–" As he reached for the handle it shot open, and Gus appeared.

"What the _hell_ is going on, Shawn? I get to the office to see a note that you're at your dad's, and then some guy shows up and stabs me with a needle full of Pavulon, and then makes me call –" His eyes affixed on Lassiter. "Detective Lassiter, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drag you and Juliet into it, but he had a gun, and –" Lassiter's look shut him up. "Okay, so - Agent Reid?"

"Hi, Gus," Reid said with a short wave.

"What're you doing here? Oh, my God, Shawn, what did you get us mixed up in this time?"

"Whatever it is, we're all mixed up in it with you," Prentiss said.

"Gus. Breathe. Look, we still have to find Jules and Dad. And they still need to find at least Agent Hotchner."

"How'd they get him? He's, like, Mr. Indestructible."

"They wrecked his car," Rossi answered.

Gus' reply was cut off by a loud _bang_ that sounded suspiciously like someone attempting to kick down a door.

"Sounds like Morgan," Reid said, trotting off. When they caught up, Reid was fumbling for the key in front a door. Just before he put the key in the lock, the door bowed outward. "Morgan! Cut it out!"

"Reid! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Getting you out. Hold on." Reid finally got the key in and swung the door in.

"You okay?" Morgan hadn't quite emerged into the hallway yet.

"I'm fine, Morgan. What about you?"

"Pissed. Where the hell are we?"

"Your guess is a good as mine," Rossi said, stepping up to the door with Prentiss.

"You guys are here too?" Morgan groaned. "Who else?"

"We're only missing Hotch," Prentiss answered this time, as Morgan stepped into the hallway. His eyes affixed on the trio.

"Shawn? Lassiter? What're you doing here?"

"Lassie thought it'd be a good time for a reunion," Shawn piped cheerfully. Lassiter cuffed the back of his head. "Ow!" Feigning indigence, Shawn pouted and continued his search of the doors down the hall. Morgan shook his head.

"Doesn't look like much has changed. So we're missing Hotch?"

"And he might be in bad shape, so we need to –"

"Jules!" Shawn yelled, sprinting into a room he'd just unlocked. Lassiter and Gus were immediately on his heels. The others stood in the door as they rolled the petite blonde detective onto her back, and she groggily shook her head.

"Go on and find your agent," Lassiter said. "We'll meet up somewhere else."

"There's a sitting area back down the other hallway, at the very end." Rossi pointed. "We'll meet there."

The agents cleared the doorway.

"How're you feeling, Jules?"

"Like hell," she answered honestly. "Where _are_ we?"

"I don't know. Can you walk?"

"I don't know."

"Spencer, Guster, find Henry. I'll get her to the couches." Lassiter looped one of Juliet's arms around his neck. "Go on. We'll meet back up there."

Shawn gave Juliet another worried once-over. "Okay. Bye, Jules." He and Gus headed out of the door as Lassiter helped Juliet to her feet.

Meanwhile, the BAU team had headed down another hallway. Reid tried a door to find it locked. He tried his key, which didn't fit. "Shawn! Gus! Down here!"

The duo sprinted down and immediately tested their key. Prentiss yelled down to Reid.

"Reid! This one!"

Reid sprinted towards them. "Hold on." He jammed the key into the lock – it fit – and pushed in the door.

#

In Quantico, JJ passed along Vick's findings to Garcia before making her way to Strauss' office. She knocked.

"Come in," came her tired voice. JJ pushed open the door.

"Chief Strauss? We may have a lead."

Strauss motioned to a chair. "Have a seat." JJ did. "Now, what's your lead?"

"Santa Barbara Police Chief Karen Vick just called me."

"From that business five years ago?"

JJ winced inwardly. _I'd hoped she'd forgotten about that_. "Yes, ma'am."

"What did she want?"

"They're missing five of their department. Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, consultants Spencer and Guster, and a retired sergeant, Henry Spencer. It's the same gender makeup as those missing from our team, and it should bear further investigation."

Strauss nodded. "Are you keeping in contact with her?"

"Yes. She's going to let me know if they find anything."

"Keep me updated, and let me know if we need to fly out to California."

"Yes, ma'am." JJ left and closed the door behind her before groaning. A flight to California with Erin Strauss was _not_ an experience she wanted to experience. Again. Oregon was bad enough.

#

"Hotch."

Morgan was the first to recover and reach his supervisor's side. Hotchner was facedown, as the rest of them had been, blood smeared down the side of his head. His one arm was out to the side, wrist at an unnatural angle, his breathing short and rapid. Morgan gently touched his shoulder.

"'M 'wake, Morgan."

"What happened?"

"Nosshure." Hotchner's words were slurring together.

"You were in an accident," Rossi explained.

"Oh," came the over-simplified answer.

"Rossi –" Morgan left the statement hanging.

"Aaron, we're going to get you to a couch." Rossi and Morgan traded a glance before helping him up, accompanied by several winces of pain.

"Where're we?" Hotchner shook his head like he was trying to clear his head.

"We're still working on that one," Reid answered as they started down the hallway.

Shawn finally got the door open as they passed and ran through the door to his father's side, quickly pulling off the cloth blindfold before working off the duct tape covering his mouth.

"Shawn!" The tape was hardly clear before Henry's sharp voice cut through the room.

"I've never been happier to hear you berating me, dad," Shawn replied, working the duct tape off his wrists. Gus was working on his ankles.

"Where are we?"

"I have no idea. None of us do. But we're here with the BAU, like from that case five years ago," Shawn explained. Gus nodded in affirmation. "So this should be everyone."

"Who else is here?"

"Lassiter and Juliet," Gus answered.

"So there's five of us. Only five of the feds?"

"Yeah." They helped Henry to his feet. "We're meeting back at some couches down the hall. You okay, dad?"

"I'm fine. Just a little knocked around – not too serious." They started down the hall, and rejoined the others as Hotchner was being carefully settled on a chair. "He looks bad."

Shawn glanced over the injured agent. "Do you think you can do anything?"

"I can try." With that, Henry joined Rossi and Morgan. The others settled down.

"All right." Reid started off the conversation as Lassiter joined the trio already talking to Hotchner. "Anyone have any ideas why we're here?"

"No."

"Okay. Well, when we started to leave our rooms, Shawn and I saw a video," Reid started to explain. "Essentially, a woman who'd blacked out her features told us that –"

"—we were brought her to face a test," Shawn finished.

"A test." Gus went pale. "Oh, god. Like, walking on coals? Chinese water torture?"

"Breathe, Gus." Gus started Lamaze breathing. "There ya go. That's better."

"Wait," Prentiss said. "That actually works?"

Shawn pointed. "He's become an expert."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I'm hurt by the implications of that statement, Agent Prentiss." Shawn put his hand over his heart. "It cut me deep. Right here. _Right. Here._" Gus dug his elbow into Shawn's side. "Ow!"

"Okay." Morgan and Lassiter joined them, leaving Henry and Rossi to fuss over Hotchner. "We need to get to work on figuring this guy out. Reid, you said that you and Shawn saw a video?"

"More like a Skype feed or something," Reid answered.

"So you talked to her too?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah."

"Reid. What'd she say?"

Reid stared down at the floor and started rattling off the message. "Dr. Spencer Reid. Welcome to the Mansion. You have been brought here to face a test. Your first task is to gather the others on your team. All will be explained. You will find a key on the floor outside that will unlock your team members' doors. They are scattered throughout the Mansion. Once you have found them you will receive further information. Good luck, Dr. Reid."

"That was it?" Prentiss asked. Reid nodded. "Is that what you heard, Shawn?"

"Just about."

"So this is some sort of 'test,'" Morgan mused. "And now we're supposed to wait for further instructions."

"It seems so."

They waited in silence, only punctuated by Hotchner's weak assertions of his decent health and the responding arguments of Rossi and Henry. Lassiter finally lost his patience. "All right. Where the hell is she? We've been waiting for at least an hour."

"Ten minutes," Shawn answered.

"What?"

"It's only been ten minutes."

"What the hell –"

"Lassiter, you know Shawn can't sit still for an hour."

"Either way, Guster, she should have –"

"I will tell you the same thing I told Mr. Spencer, Detective Lassiter. Patience. All will be explained." They spun to face the far wall as walls slid apart and a TV screen was revealed, showing the blacked out woman once more.


	5. Chapter 4: Too Much Spencer Influence

A/N: As promised, tonight's 2nd chapter!

**Chapter 4: Too Much Spencer Influence**

"_Don't worry, there's nothing illegal about any of this."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Of course, this is America . . . It's a free country, don't you know that?"  
"I didn't know it was *that* free."_

_- Clue_

"Okay. So you found an abandoned 2009 black Ford Explorer with missing plates matching the description? Where is it? At Prince George County Impound? We'll send a team over to look at it and see if it's the vehicle in question. Thank you." JJ hung up the phone and glanced down at Garcia, who was still running a facial recognition program on the woman in the video.

"They found the car?"

"They might have." JJ picked up her jacket. "I'm going to go with the team to the impound lot and see what I can find for you."

"Okay. Jayje, check for a crushed rear bumper, remember?"

"Yeah. Will do."

"And be careful."

JJ left Garcia's office and followed one of the tech vans to the lot, about an hour away. She jumped out to meet the PG sheriff.

"Agent Jareau?" he asked, shaking her hand.

"Officer . . . Morrin," she answered, glancing at his nametag. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Anytime, Agent Jareau." They started towards the van. "We found the van around 6 this morning, abandoned near a field. The field looked like it may have had a helicopter land in it at some point, and interviews with nearby homeowners confirmed that suspicion."

"A _helicopter_?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been over the SUV yet?"

"No. But we called you after looking back over the APB, and noticing blood in the back."

"Blood?" JJ's throat started to collapse again.

"Not a lot. But enough to make us realize that this isn't just an abandoned vehicle." They found themselves at the SUV. "Here it is."

JJ immediately checked the rear bumper, and closed her eyes when she found the right side of the bumper crushed in.

"Make sure this gets towed back to the FBI lab," she ordered the tech. "Check for everything – prints, blood, tissue, _anything_. Make sure everything makes it to my desk."

"Absolutely, Agent Jareau."

"Check for the VIN number." JJ stepped back to give the tech room. He checked the inside of the door.

"Right here, Agent Jareau." She pulled out a notebook and scribbled down the number as the tech rattled it off.

"Make sure this car gets back to Quantico. And thanks again, Officer Morrin."

"Anytime, Agent Jareau."

As she started back towards her SUV, JJ dialed Garcia's number.

_The Internet Superhighway is Open._

"Garcia, I need you to run a VIN number."

_That's so thoughtful of you, Jayje! What is it?_

JJ rattled off the number as she climbed back in the SUV. There was clicking.

_Okay. That car belongs – well, _belonged_ – to a Matthew Seager in Nebraska. It was apparently sold at an estate sale about three years ago and the new owners never registered it._

"What about the tags?"

_Appear to be stolen._

"So it looks like our guys, then."

_Probably. So does that mean they're close by?_

JJ shook her head, even though she knew Garcia couldn't see her. "They found the car abandoned in a field, where it looked like a helicopter had taken off. The locals confirmed hearing a helicopter around that time."

_A _helicopter_?_

"Yeah."

_They could be _anywhere_._ The distress was easy to hear in Garcia's voice. _But a helicopter isn't cheap, and – _there was more clicking –_it just so happens that at the Seager estate sale, two helicopters were sold as well._

"So whoever we're hunting got _everything_ at this estate sale?"

_It's possible. I'll start hunting down these helicopters. Nothing crosses the airways nowadays without us knowing about it._

"Sounds good, Garcia. I'll call Vick and let her know to look for fields and helicopters."

_See ya in an hour, Jayje._ Garcia hung up, and JJ dialed another number.

#

Meanwhile, Vick was investigating an abandoned Explorer of her own.

The car had been found in an empty field about twenty miles out of Santa Barbara proper, but nothing linked it to the missing group. But it fit the APB to a T.

At the same time, though, techs were _insisting_ that a helicopter had taken off from the field.

Vick didn't believe in helicopters.

Well, she _believed_ in helicopters. But she _didn't_ believe a _helicopter_ was responsible for the abductions. That would be too . . . _Spencer-_like.

"I let him work too many cases," she muttered to herself as McNabb approached her.

"Who?" McNabb asked, a worried look flitting across his face.

"Not you. Are they still saying a _helicopter_ is responsible for this?"

"I think so, Chief. Um –"

Her phone rang, and she held up her hand. "Chief of Police Karen Vick."

_Chief Vick, this is Agent Jareau._

"Agent Jareau. Have you found anything?"

_We may have. A nearby department located an abandoned Ford Explorer near a field that had evidence of a helicopter takeoff._

Vick was silent. McNabb slowly started to back away. "A _helicopter_?" She finally managed to croak out.

_Yes, a – Chief Vick, are you okay?_

She swallowed. "We just found a Ford Explorer abandoned in a field that looked to have had a _helicopter_ take off from it."

JJ fell silent on the other end of the line. _Oh boy._

"What?"

_That's just . . . I don't know. It doesn't make sense. _

"So what do we need to do next?"

_I'm not sure. Send our analyst the VIN from the Explorer to run against a set we're looking at. The helicopters and the SUVs may have been sold at the same estate auction._

"Where?"

JJ paused. _Nebraska._

"That's a long way from both Santa Barbara _and_ Washington."

_I know. That's why this _has_ to be connected. How much physical evidence do you have?_

"They're still combing through the Psych office."

_That's probably more than we have, then. We may be flying out to Santa Barbara, if that's the case. _

"Is that necessary?"

_We found our SUV. There's no physical evidence from any of our abductions. There isn't much we can do here._

Vick sighed. "Okay. Let me know, and I can get you set up with a hotel."

_As soon as I know what my supervisor wants me to do, I'll let you know._

Vick hung up the phone. "McNabb!"

The young detective scurried over. "Yes, Chief?"

"Go find out what's taking them so long at the Psych office."

"Right away, Chief." McNabb hurried off to find his partner and head over, and Vick sighed.

Helicopters. Far too Spencer-like.

She didn't like it.

#

Rossi was the first to recover. "Look," he started. "I don't understand _why_ we're here, _what_ you're planning on doing to us, or _who_ you are, but you forced me to abandon a _very_ expensive vehicle, and I'd like some answers."

She chuckled. "Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. Your _car_ is fine and safely tucked away in the Quantico evidence lab. I'm certain it's safe. Now, patience. All will be explained."

"Then let's get to it," Henry snapped. "Why are we here?"

"Among many circles, your _teams_ are well known," she answered ethereally, giving a broad arm movement to suggest those in the room. "Many are in awe of the work done by the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and many Californian criminals try to avoid Santa Barbara due to the work of Detective Carlton Lassiter and Mr. Spencer."

Both Lassiter and Shawn exchanged a look agreeing that it wasn't OK to be recognized by a psychopath.

"And where do _you_ fit into this?" Morgan asked.

"I am not awed by either your _teams_' reputations or work. Therefore, I have brought you here to _test_ you."

"What sort of _test_?" Juliet asked this time, as Shawn elbowed Gus to remind him to breathe.

"There are three levels in the Mansion. Each level requires you to think outside your regular capacity of profiling and crime solving. Your first task is to find the way to the second floor."

"What –"

"That is all the help I will give you, Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You are on your own until the door to the second level is breeched."

The screen went black, and they sank back down onto the couches in silence.

"I'm really starting to _hate_ that creepy chick," Shawn finally said.

"What the _hell_ was she talking about?" Lassiter asked.

Rossi couldn't help but chuckle.

"This isn't a time to be laughing, Rossi," Morgan said, rubbing his forehead.

"No, I think it is." Rossi paced over towards the screen. "Because, in the words of Lionel Twain, 'You've tricked and fooled your readers for years. You've tortured us all with surprise endings that made no sense. You've introduced characters in the last five pages that were never in the book before. You've withheld clues and information that made it impossible for us to guess who did it. But now, the tables are turned. Millions of angry mystery readers are now getting their revenge. When the world learns I've outsmarted you, they'll be selling your $1.95 books for twelve cents.'"

He was met with silence.

"That sounds familiar," Reid finally said.

"Dave, this is _not_ a time to be quoting _Murder by Death_," Hotchner muttered from his chair.

"I think it's an excellent time," Rossi retorted.

"Okay. What do we need to do?" Henry asked. "After all, she was pretty damn vague on the details."

"Any good mansion would have secret passages," Shawn said. They looked at him. "Seriously. Who would build a mansion without secret passages?"

"Shawn."

"What self-respecting mansion would _not_ have secret passages?"

"_Shawn_!"

"I'm serious, Gus! Would _you_ build a mansion without secret passages?"

"_Spencer_!"

"No, he has a point."

Reid's voice cut through the argument, and Lassiter, Gus, and Henry stared at him in shock. It was a look shared by half the BAU team.

"_What_?"

"She's obviously not . . . _entirely_ logical," Reid continued. "And if this is a puzzle mansion, so-to-speak, then it makes perfect sense that there would be secret passages."

"I can't believe someone's telling him he's right," Lassiter muttered under his breath.

"Lassie, I'm hurt. I'm right a lot. It's just –"

"Did we happen to come _across_ any of these secret passages when we were looking for everyone?" Prentiss asked. Reid shook his head.

"No, but I'd guess that the rooms would be the best place to start."

"Any idea what we're looking for?" Juliet asked. Everyone jumped, having half-forgotten she was there.

"A staircase would be a good start." Everyone except Hotchner stood.

"We should split up," Rossi suggested.

"Do we trust her to _let_ us split up?"

"I think so. We're just looking for secret passages."

"Okay, so who's going where?" Lassiter asked. Rossi and Henry both eyed the group.

"Detective, you take O'Hara and Reid to the top hallway. Mr. Spencer, you take . . . Spencer and Guster to the hallway to the left, and I'll take Prentiss and Morgan to the hallway on the right." Henry looked about ready to argue, but shrugged.

Slowly, the group dispersed. Hotchner leaned back in his chair, glad for the peace and silence to rest his pounding headache. His head lolled back, giving his tired neck a rest. _I hate accidents. Really, really _hate_ accidents_.

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner," a silky, familiar voice said. Hotchner inwardly groaned before opening his eyes to be confronted by the familiar black, shadowed female on the screen.


	6. Chapter 5: This Would Be Awesome If

A/N: While sad that only 2 people have reviewed the last two chapters, I'm going to now start posting 1 chapter per day when able to, probably around this time at night. I've currently written up to Chapter 11. Also: Tim Curry is the season finale's UnSub on CM. Is anyone as absolutely thrilled at this as me?

vampire-act: It makes me happy that there's always someone who's incredibly ecstatic about me updating. They might make it. But not unscathed. Because that wouldn't be fun.

Wraith Ink-Slinger: Nebraska does feature prominently as a bed of psychopaths, doesn't it? Don't worry, Nebraska will get a lot more airtime shortly. To note: I have no problem with Nebraska. This area just happens to be the exact midpoint between Washington, D.C. and Santa Barbara, California. And no, sadly, "not entirely logical" mystery lady seems to have developed a . . . special connection . . . to our dear Agent Hotchner.

Without further ado:

**Chapter 5: This Would Be Awesome If We Weren't Probably Going To Die**

"_Aha, stumped already. Need some clues, Monsieur Perrier?"  
"Clues? I need no clues from you! I find my own clues, you demented lollipop!"_

_- Murder by Death_

"What's your name?" In his still cloudy state of mind, it was the first thing Hotchner thought to ask. She chuckled.

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself, Agent Hotchner?"

"Am I?"

"How are you feeling?" His answer was to glare at the screen. "I see that you are recovering from your injuries."

Hotchner grimaced.

"It must bother you, that your team is out being productive and _you_ are stuck here."

Even through his haze, he was beginning to profile. _She knows about us. Which means, she's been watching us. _"My team is capable of exploring this floor of your mansion on their own. They don't need my guidance."

"You have confidence in them."

"I _trust _them."

"Is that so? I don't believe you could trust easily."

"I don't." Hotchner paused. "You're underestimating us."

"I wouldn't have brought you here if you weren't capable."

"That's reassuring." Hotchner let his eyes close again.

"I can give you an eye on your team while they are away from you."

Hotchner tried to avoid opening his eyes too fast. "You have this entire mansion under camera feed, don't you?"

She laughed. "How else could I _test_ you?"

He thought for a second before speaking. "Building this house was no small feat, nor was wiring the entire thing for video. How did you get the funds?"

If he had been able to see his features, he would have thought a small smile was dancing across her face. "You should know to never ask someone how they get their money, Agent Hotchner."

"I'm sorry, I make it my business to ask," he replied. "I'm curious."

This time, the smile was evident in her voice. "As am I."

Hotchner tried to shift his arm and grimaced as pain shot into his shoulder. "Then how did you know so much about us?"

"My . . . funds . . . provide for quite the surveillance detail. On all of you." She shifted in her own chair. "But that is enough chatter between us, Agent Hotchner. Let me show you your team."

"I—" The video disappeared.

#

"Morgan, find anything?" Rossi stepped back into the hallway.

Morgan emerged from the room. "Nothing."

Rossi groaned. "Nothing in there either."

"Rossi!" Prentiss yelled. He and Morgan hurried into the room she was examining to find her holding up a trapdoor. "Look at this."

"Secret passage?"

"It looks like it."

"I'll go through." Morgan lowered himself into the tunnel.

"Prentiss. Go." Rossi motioned.

"What? God only knows how much room is down there."

"We need to stick together. If something happens to Morgan in that tunnel, we won't be able to help him"

"Oh. Good point." Prentiss jumped down through the trapdoor, and Rossi followed her. The trapdoor closed behind them.

#

"Dude. Gus. Look at this." Henry and Gus hurried into the room. Shawn was holding up a trapdoor.

"I hate it when you're right," Gus muttered.

"Well, we should probably go back to the others and – Sha – _Shawn!_" Henry groaned as Shawn disappeared into the trapdoor.

"I am _not_ going down there," Gus argued. "Do you _know_ what could be down there?"

"Gus."

"Mr. Spencer, I'm _not_ going down there."

"Gus, get down there!"

"I – okay, Mr. Spencer." Gus jumped down the hole, followed by Henry.

#

"Lassiter, I found something." Reid and Lassiter hurried to where they heard Juliet's voice echoing out of a room down at the end of the hall. She held open a trapped door. "Look at this."

"Looks like a secret passage," Reid said.

"I hate it when Spencer's right," Lassiter growled. "Okay. O'Hara, I'll head down first. Agent Reid, bring up the rear."

"Uh – should we all be going down?"

"Someone needs to be able to hear us should something happen. I don't –"

To their surprise, Morgan's head popped out of the trapdoor. "Oh. Hey, guys. I guess we found out where _this_ goes to."

Lassiter pulled Morgan out, and found him followed by Prentiss and Rossi.

"That was anticlimactic," Rossi said as he pulled himself up.

"So that trapdoor is bust."

"Now what?"

#

"Hey. This room doesn't look familiar."

Gus pulled himself out of the trapdoor to find Henry and Shawn already inspecting the strange room.

It was mostly bare, with walls covered in antique, flowery wallpaper. There were several unshaded light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. And in the glow of one, Shawn saw what they were looking for.

"Dad. Stairs." He pointed.

And the lights went out.

#

The lights shot out, and the screen went dark.

"What the hell?" Morgan yelled from some discreet corner of the Mansion. It was muted, so he was probably on the other side.

Hotchner sighed heavily. His various injuries were throbbing, sending pain ricocheting through his body, but that was to be expected. He was, after all, certain that a couple of ribs and his wrist were broken, but he was growing convinced that his femur had been snapped in the accident as well. Surprising, but with the car rolling . . .

"Morgan!" He yelled, wincing as his voice shot pain through his head. "Where are you guys?"

"Trying to get back," he yelled.

The TV flickered to life. "Agent Hotchner."

"What happened to the lights?" He asked, without even looking up at the TV.

"The Spencers have reached the stairs," she answered simply. "There is only one way to turn the lights back on."

"And what is that?"

"The second riddle."

Hotchner groaned as the TV went dark, taking the little bit of light it had brought. There was a series of loud crashes and Lassiter and Rossi's exploration teams tripped back in.

"Any luck?"

"We both found a passage, but they ended up leading to each other," Morgan said, finding one of the chairs and collapsing into it. Hotchner coughed slightly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"So any idea why the lights went out, except that we're trapped by a lunatic?" Lassiter asked, dropping down into another chair.

"The Spencers made it to the stairs. I have no idea what they need to do."

"Who told you that?" Juliet asked, her voice echoing in the stifling darkness.

"I had a visit from our friend." Hotchner motioned at the TV. His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. "So hopefully, they'll figure out what to do."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of entrusting our lighted future to Spencer," Lassiter grumbled.

"Wait, so she's been talking to you?" Reid asked. Hotchner strained to see him.

"She showed up while you were gone."

"What did you learn?"

Hotchner closed his eyes, mulling over Rossi's question. "The entire building is under video surveillance, and she doesn't yet want to discuss where she's gotten the money for all this. But we've been under surveillance outside of here, most likely for months, if not years."

"We're going to need to build a working profile." Rossi shifted in his chair. "Which means, we need everyone back here."

Hotchner nodded. "We're going to need to know how everyone was taken. In detail."

Morgan sighed. "I just hope they figure out what they're doing soon."

#

"Shawn!"

"Why is it always _my_ fault, dad? I didn't do _anything_ this time!"

"The _stairs_, Shawn. It must have been a _cue_ or something!"

"How was I supposed to know?"

"Because you're a _psychic_," the silky voice said.

"Hey!" Henry yelled into the darkness. "Turn the damned lights back on!"

"Patience, Mr. Spencer. You three alone have the power to do that."

"How?" Gus asked. The voice chuckled.

"'There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.'"

"What?"

"'There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it,'" she repeated.

"Can you just out and say it!" Henry yelled, but the voice was gone.

"That's a quote," Gus said. "Edith Wharton, I think."

"She said it for a reason," Shawn said, closing his eyes. He started to piece the room back together, the short glimpses that he'd caught before the lights died flashing together into a panoramic view, spinning until he latched onto what he wanted: on the wall behind the trapdoor they'd come in through, there was a mirror. "Gus, can you find the trapdoor?"

"I don't think _now_'s the best time to go through a tunnel, Shawn!"

"I don't _want_ the trapdoor, I want the wall below it!"

Gus kicked around on the floor until he found the trapdoor. "Over here."

Shawn and Henry followed Gus' voice until they found him. "Okay, Dad, there should be a mirror . . ." Shawn rotated himself until he thought he was facing the wall. "Right down there. Walk until you hit a wall."

"I'm not doing that, Shawn. That's the stupidest thing I've heard you _ever_ tell me to do."

"Fine. I'll do it." Shawn started carefully stepping until his outstretched hand brushed the wall. Carefully, he ran his hand down towards the corner, where the mirror should be, and finally hit something solid and cold. "Dad! Help me out here."

Between the two of them, they pulled the mirror off the wall. "There's a fuse box here," Henry said. "Does anyone have _any_ light?"

"Try opening the box."

He did, and a small light illuminated the switches beyond. "Okay, everything powered off. Let's see . . . main living room . . . north hallway . . . east hallway . . . south hallway . . ."

"The house must be oriented west," Shawn muttered.

"Main stairwell . . . rooms." As he listed the names, Henry flipped each switch. The lights flickered back on, and they heard muted cheering from the others.

"There should be a door here somewhere," Shawn said, inspecting the wallpaper. "Dad, look at this."

Henry glanced over. The wallpaper had an odd seam running down it, framing a four foot section of the wall. "I see it. But how do we open it?"

"I have no idea."

"There's got to be _some_ way or it wouldn't _be _here."

"Is there a lever or anything? Gus?"

"I don't . . . wait. There was something in the tunnel." Gus dropped back through the trapdoor.

"Gus!" Shawn hurried back over.

"Here it is." Gus seized the wooden handle and pulled it down. It clicked, and to their amazement the door slid open.

"Dude. If there wasn't that creepy chick, this would be _awesome_." Shawn helped Gus back out of the trapdoor, and they exited into the diagonal hallway. Shawn skipped ahead of them into the sitting area. "Hey, guys! We found the light switch and the stairs!"

"I figured," Rossi answered. Shawn glanced over at Hotchner.

"Hey Mr. Super Special Agent Hotchner, how're ya feeling?"

"Better than I was a few minutes ago," Hotchner said. "Sit."

"Huh? But we just found stairs. And the lights. Shouldn't we –"

"_Sit_," Hotchner snapped. Shawn quietly sank into one of the chairs.

"Agent Hotchner, you have _got _to teach me how to do that." Lassiter pointed.

"Later."

"We need to think about the profile," Rossi said. "And _that_ requires answers. And _quiet_." He stared deliberately at Shawn.

"What good will the profile do?" Henry asked.

"The more of a profile we develop, the more likely we are to figure out just _how_ to keep our friend happy. The happier _she_ is, the more likely we are to make it out alive," Morgan said. "What are we dealing with first, Hotch? Or Rossi."

"How was everyone taken?" Hotchner asked.


	7. Chapter 6: Flashbacks

A/N: I know, I lied. I didn't update around 9. I got distracted by, well, Criminal Minds. So two updates in total today: One today, one tonight.

This chapter, especially the last part, was more fun to write than the Wii chapter in the original. But then again, I love embarrassing the hell out of Morgan, so . . . :)

P.S.: According to sfulton, there was a problem accessing several of the chapters. If this happens again, always try exiting out of your internet and then going back to the page. But if that doesn't work, PM me and I'll c/p the text for the chapters you can't read into a message for you.

**Chapter 6: Flashbacks**

"_That's what we're trying to find out! We're trying to find out who killed him and where and with what!"  
__**"**__There's no need to shout."  
__**"**__I'm not shouting! Alright I am. I'm shouting, I'm shouting, I'm shou—" _

_-- Clue_

_Approximately 10 Hours Earlier_

_Washington, D.C._

Rossi groaned as a series of bright red and blue lights flashed in his car He glanced down at his speedometer. _57._ Straight ahead was a speed limit sign. _50_. With another sigh of aggravation he pulled to the side of the road. "Of course I'm getting pulled over _now_," he muttered angrily, fumbling for his license and badge. "Because let's pull over the law-abiding federal agent when I just got passed by a guy doing eighty not five minutes ago."

The cop was up by his window, and Rossi cranked it down a crack. "Can I see your badge, please?"

The cop handed it to him through the crack, and Rossi glanced it over. "Thank you, Officer . . . Flores." He handed it back before rolling the window down further and passing through his license and badge. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

"SSA Rossi?" Rossi nodded. "There's a lot of hype going around about you."

"All good, I hope."

"Mostly. Have a good –"

Rossi jerked his hand up as he felt something jam into his arm. "What the hell?" He pulled out the dart just as his limbs started to fall lax, and his eyes started to flutter closed.

"I _knew_ I wasn't speeding . . ." he whispered before falling into unconsciousness.

#

Hotchner was quite close to home.

He hadn't wanted to stay at the office that late, but Strauss had needed to complain to him about the outcome of the team's most recent case – something about the fact that Prentiss had been forced to kill the UnSub during a shootout. So here it was, about eleven, and he was just _now_ getting home. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Strauss wasn't nearly as much of a . . . problem, to put it nicely . . . since Haley's death, but she was _still_ annoying.

And there was suddenly a jerk as his left front tire blew out.

And there was a curve.

And a tree.

Hotchner breathed in and pulled the wheel to the left as the tree came closer, but he knew he couldn't avoid the oncoming mass of bark and leaves. The car miraculously cleared the curb – and the tree – but before he could stop to check the damage his right tire exploded in slivers of rubber and metal.

The force of the blowout set the car spinning to the left, and the car hit the edge of the road, found the ditch, rolled before sliding into another tree, and everything disappeared in a burst of pain.

#

_Around the same time_

_Santa Barbara, California_

Gus dropped his case on the floor by his desk and picked up a hastily scrawled note.

_Gus,_

_Gone to Dad's for dinner._

_See you later._

_P.S. Don't eat the pineapple in the fridge, or I'll let everyone know about that *thing* you did to that *thing* in 8__th__ grade during that *thing*._

_-Shawn_

Gus couldn't remember the last time he'd had a night off. Psych had _really_ taken off in the last few years, so much so that it was almost impossible to catch a night of rest. And his home TiVo was getting stuffed full of episodes of _27 and Counting_, a complaint that he could never utter around Shawn for risk of never hearing the end of it.

As he was gearing up to leave, there was a knock on the door. He looked up to see a short, stocky man with blonde hair . . . and a gun.

"Um . . ." Gus glanced down at the gun, and swallowed. His hands immediately jumped into the air. "Sir, we're closed right now, so . . ."

"That's funny. Your sign didn't say you were closed."

"I usually don't flip it until I leave . . . um . . ."

"Sit."

Gus dropped down into his desk chair. "Sir, I'm sure we can just talk about this." Gus had been in some dangerous situations, but they still caught him off guard. "I mean, if you want any of our money it's in our bank account, but I'm sure I can get it to you if I can just call my associate and have him transfer it to the off-shore account of your choosi–"

"You think I'm here for money." The man chuckled. "Sit still." The man circled around behind Gus, who swallowed as the gun pressed against his head. _One too many cases involving executions . . ._ His eyes rested on the mini-bat, still propped up against his desk from his and Shawn's piñata-fest earlier that week. _It isn't much against a gun, but . . ._

He was just about to go for it when there was a burning sensation on the side of his neck, and the desk chair spun and slammed into the wall behind him. The man was immediately in front of him, gun leveled directly in between his eyes.

"That would have worked, potentially. Now sit _still_, Mr. Guster, and let it work. Ah, but I almost forgot." He found Gus' phone and, with one hand, located a number.

"What did you give me?" Gus started to panic, but tried his best to stop it. _If I panic, I can't think. If I panic, I can't think_. "Are you trying to kill me, or –"

"Oh stop it. You're far too valuable to kill. Yet, of course."

"_What did you give me_?" A tingling sensation started through his limbs.

"Just a little shot of Pavulon," his captor answered, dialing the phone. Gus groaned, recognizing the drug. "And before it fully kicks in, I need you to make a call for me."

Gus looked down at the number and grimaced as the man pushed the phone against the side of his head. "No! I am _not_ getting them involved!" he snapped.

The man cocked the gun, and Gus swallowed. "You aren't?"

#

Juliet O'Hara looked down at her phone. It was Gus. Maybe the duo had made some progress in the case that was giving them hell – it would be more than welcome at 6 PM when both she and Lassiter were still at the office working on it. She quickly flipped her phone open. "Gus!" Her partner, Carlton Lassiter, looked up from his desk across the silent and mostly-deserted station.

"They figure anything out?" He asked, begrudgingly. Juliet shrugged.

_Hey, Juliet . . . um . . ._ something about Gus' voice seemed off, as if he had to make a concerted effort to pronounce each word individually. _I need . . . I need to see you and Lassiter at . . . at the office . . ._

"Gus, are you okay?"

_Yeah, I'm . . . Shawn and I just . . . I just need to see you guys down here._ His voice was trailing off.

"Gus? _Gus?_" Juliet shouted into the phone as Gus' voice disappeared and the phone clicked. "Lassiter, I think there's a problem down at the Psych office."

"What sort of problem?" the other detective grunted, head bent over his paperwork.

"Gus sounded . . . drugged or something." Juliet was up and going for her jacket.

"Hold on." Lassiter held up his hand. "We can't go rushing in there. This could be someone setting us up."

"Either way, if Gus is in trouble . . ."

"O'Hara." She cut off. "I didn't say we _weren't_ going to head over. We'll get some of the patrolling officers in the area to join us over there as soon as possible." Lassiter stood and pulled his blazer on. "I'm sure it's just Spencer and Guster playing another prank on us."

"I don't know, Lassiter. Gus sounded pretty bad."

Lassiter scoffed. "Yeah, and Spencer doesn't sound bad when we don't play along with him."

Juliet shrugged in defeat as they pulled out of the lot and pulled onto the road that would get them to the office the quickest. As they slid into a parking spot in between Gus' Echo (the company had _still_ not upgraded his car) and a large SUV, the flash and report of a gunshot lit up the inside of the darkened office.

"Okay. No time to wait for backup." Lassiter was out of the car before Juliet had time to unbuckle her seatbelt. Lassiter pointed towards the office's back door, and Juliet ran for it. As she heard Lassiter open the front door, she quickly pushed in through the back.

Almost instantaneously someone twisted her arm behind her back and jammed something into the side of her neck before slamming her into the wall. "Don't move, detective." They jerked her cuffs off her belt and clamped them onto her wrists.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Shut up, detective. You got him down?"

"Yep," came an answer from the front room. "You?"

"Yep."

"Lassiter, you okay?" Juliet yelled, earning a nasty hit from her captor.

"I'm fine, O'Hara," Lassiter responded gruffly, giving a short struggle against his captor as the other pulled Juliet into the office area and shoved her down into Gus' chair. "What the hell is going on?" Lassiter leaned back from where his captor had dropped him into Shawn's chair, eyes never leaving the gun trained on his partner. "Where's Guster?"

"Oh, don't worry about him. You'll see him soon enough." Juliet's attacker answered, shaking out his blonde hair. "Well, within a few hours, at least."

"What did you do to him?" Juliet demanded. "And what are you going to do to us?"

"We, personally, aren't going to do anything for you. Someone has put in a _very_ good order to have you delivered . . . _alive_." The other attacker grinned as Juliet fell lax in her chair, unable to respond.

Lassiter was almost immediately on his feet, but collapsed back into the chair when his legs gave out under him. The blonde man immediately started to blindfold Juliet. "What did you do to her?"

"Don't worry, the same thing is happening to you." He casually tossed three syringes on the desk in front of Lassiter. "Nice little medical toy we were given to help us out." Lassiter started to try and form a string of words to describe the situation that would have been eloquent for a long-distance sailor, but found that his mouth wasn't working. His captor laughed. "Just what I mean." He started to wrap a blindfold around his head. "Hey, Morton, look at this."

"That's convenient. We can get them both at the same time then."

"Just gotta get these two in the car."

Lassiter was pulled up by his arms and drug unceremoniously out of the office. He estimated that the distance was probably putting him near his car, and as he was pulled off the ground and dumped into some carpeted interior he determined that they were being put into the back of the SUV. Seconds later, a door was slammed right by his head, and they moved out.

_I'm going to kill them . . . when I regain control of my arms . . . I'm going to kill them._

#

_Present_

Lassiter and Juliet finished their recount, and everyone's attention turned to Morgan.

"What about you, Morgan?"

Morgan leaned back in his chair uncomfortably. "Um . . . I think we probably have enough information to –"

Hotchner studied him with a slightly concussed glare. "_Morgan._"

"Sir . . . um . . . well . . . It's just . . ."

"Spit it out, Morgan," Reid said.

"I think he's embarrassed," Prentiss said, hiding a laugh.

"I really want to know now," Rossi said.

"Come on, Agent Morgan. They made me call Lassiter. Lassiter's going to kill me later."

"I really don't think I need to –"

"Morgan, I have a son," Hotchner snapped. "That I'm _not_ seeing anytime soon. I suggest you start talking."

Morgan grimaced and dropped his head into his hands. "Okay. Well, I got flagged down by this woman on my way home. She said that her son had disappeared into the woods."

"Oh . . . my . . . God . . ." Prentiss hid a growing grin behind her hand.

"So I said I'd help her, and –"

"Off went Superhero Morgan," Rossi filled in. It was taking every ounce of willpower in his body to not fall off the sofa laughing.

"Shut up, Rossi. I wanted to make sure the kid was okay," Morgan snapped. "Anyway, I was heading through the woods with my flashlight out and yelling for this kid, and I didn't spot –"

"Was it a tripwire? I mean, if it was a tripwire, they're hard to see during the day, let alone at night," Reid supplied hopefully.

"Um . . . no . . . it wasn't a tripwire . . ." Morgan was visibly turning red. "It . . . um . . . mightabeenanoosetrap."

Prentiss was unable to restrain herself by now. "Wait. A _noose trap_? Like the one that grabs your foot and flips you upside down?"

Morgan glared at her.

"Actually, I think that would be a cable restraint," Rossi replied, grinning at the younger agent's obvious discomfort.

"Whatever," Morgan grumbled. "Either way, they shot me with a tranq gun while I was hanging there and then I guess they took me down when I was unconscious."

"Wait. Morgan. You got _snared_?"

"Shut up, Shawn."

"Dude. Seriously? You missed the big rope just _hanging_ there."

"Shawn." Henry cut in this time, giving his son the usual shut-up-or-I'll-make-you-regret-it look.

"It's gotta have been a huge rope to hold you up, dude."

"It was _dark_!"

"It's a big _rope_!"

"I was worried about the kid!"

Hotchner decided to intervene, but couldn't hide his rare grin. "Okay. So all this tells us that she knew _exactly_ what would get each of us."

"She got Rossi and Prentiss with a traffic stop, which knowing their –"

"Reid, I _don't speed_," Prentiss argued.

"I was talking about Rossi."

"That was one time, and it was Gideon's way of getting back at us. Anyway, so, she made Superhero Morgan go charging after an imaginary kid in distress –"

"Got Reid by knowing he'd help with the car, even though he wouldn't really pay attention to the interior –"

"Shut up, Morgan."

"And knew that the best way to get close to me without dragging Jack into it would be an accident," Hotchner summed up.

"Wait, does that mean she _knew_ she could get me to call Lassiter and Juliet?"

"Most likely," Rossi answered, leaning forward onto his knees. "And he knew that the detectives would rush into your office on seeing a gunshot."

"And then knew that Shawn would be easy to nab, since he wasn't paying attention," Henry inserted. Shawn stuck his tongue out at him.

"And that you'd be too busy ignoring me to recognize when someone else was in the house."

"That is _not_ true, Shawn."

"You _missed_ the dude who just waltzed into the house and started trying to hit you over the head?"

"Not _now_," Lassiter snapped.

"So what do we do now?"

Rossi got to his feet. "I guess we go and look at this room you three found."

A/N: Oh, Morgan. Dear, dear Morgan.

I'm hoping that I'm still managing to merge the shows in my usual way. It's tough when I have such a large cast to deal with (I mean, 10 people stuck in a huge house and then a growing amount of people on the outside trying to find them) and it's more of a challenge than I thought it would be. I'm not sure the tension I'm trying to develop between a few people on the teams is developing well enough. But hopefully it is. We'll wait to see for the next chapters.

Thanks and cookies go to:

sfulton: Glad to see everything worked out for you. And yeah, it was a pretty killer estate sale. Literally. And there's going to be some great Hotch action later, since he is kinda stuck in that chair for a while. Hope it's comfy, at least.

vampire-act: There's a glitch in the Matrix! Get to a phone! Teeheehee.

tarapandaes: I was wondering where you were! Thanks!

Wraith: You never know. About the whole 'having problems with Nebraska' thing. And yeah, it would be a pretty awesome house . . . wish I lived there. Without psychopath, of course.


	8. Chapter 7: Funhouse Effects

A/N: This is the chapter I introduce two characters who are basically about to do all of Strauss' footwork. They're two individuals introduced in my straight Criminal Minds fic, _Whoever Fights Zombies_, which will be referenced a couple of times. You don't have to have read it (since it's unfinished) but you can probably garner from the title what it's about – zombies and an isolated college campus.

Here's the next chapter:

**Chapter 7: Funhouse Effects**

"_Will you stop saying 'touch nothing?' We're all experienced criminologists. I find it insulting, debasing, and redundant to keep telling us to 'touch nothing!'"  
-Jessica Marbles, Murder by Death_

"What exactly do you mean by 'missing'?"

Vick folded her hands on top of her desk, finally looking up at Madeleine Spencer. Henry's ex-wife had been in San Francisco on business, and had come down immediately when Vick had called her.

"Shawn and Henry went missing from Henry's house at around 6 or 7 last night," she repeated.

"Do you have any idea where they are?"

"None whatsoever."

Madeleine sighed. "Okay. What do you _know_?"

"Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara are also missing, as is Mr. Guster."

"Oh, dear." Madeleine frowned. "Is it connected?"

"We believe so."

"Karen."

"Okay. It is. Lassiter and O'Hara were lured to the Psych office."

She sighed again. "Do you have any suspects?"

"No. None yet. But the BAU should be en route as we speak. Several of their agents are missing as well, and we both believe they are connected."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I would invite your expertise on this case, Madeleine, but you _are_ very closely connected."

Madeleine crossed her arms with a slight smile. "And you, and the federal agents, are not?" Vick glared at her. "I bring up an excellent point, Karen. I _can_ help, especially if the BAU is low on agents. I'm not a profiler, but I have some background in criminal psychology. You know that."

"We'll speak to the agents when they arrive, which shouldn't be too long." Vick sighed. "But I have to admit, I'm willing to accept whatever help I can get."

#

The group – minus Hotchner – stood examining the locked door next to the staircase leading down into darkness.

"I think the route to the second floor is probably back there," Reid said.

"The only issue is that it's _locked_, Reid."

"I _know_ it's locked, Morgan."

"Maybe we need to go downstairs," Shawn suggested. "Anyone have a flashlight?"

Morgan checked his belt again and sighed. "No."

"Someone needs to get down there. Whatever unlocks this door, knowing our _friend_, is down there." Rossi pointed into the pitch darkness of the lower floor.

"I'll go." Morgan was already on the stairs down.

"Same." Lassiter started after him into the darkness.

They waited anxiously for any sign that the duo was having any success. The silence was finally broken by several muffled expletives and loud bangs.

"You all right?" Henry yelled down the stairs.

"Yeah."

"Fine."

Finally, at least twenty minutes, several more expletives, and more bangs later, the door swung open next to them, revealing stairs. Rossi pulled a knife out of his shoe and began to pull the now-revealed hinges off the door.

"Agent Morgan, Carlton, get the hell out of there!" Henry yelled down. Several more expletives and bangs answered him.

The duo finally emerged, Lassiter holding his shoulder and Morgan limping. "What happened?" Juliet asked, immediately poking her partner's shoulder. He winced.

"The damned floor kept moving," Morgan answered, sinking down against the wall. "I'm fine, Reid."

"_Major_ funhouse effect," Lassiter said, in a voice that suggested anything _except _"fun." "I'm fine, O'Hara. It's just sore."

Rossi picked up the door and leaned it against one of the antiqued walls. "There. When we go upstairs, we don't have to worry about getting trapped."

"Does anyone know what time it is?" Prentiss asked. Half the group looked down at their wrists.

"Seven."

"Do we really want to try and tackle the next floor?" Juliet looked around the group. Silence answered her.

"We should see what it _is_," Lassiter finally answered. "But if it's anything half as bad as this floor was, we should probably leave it until morning."

"So what would we do until then?"

"Eat the couch," Shawn answered. Gus elbowed him. "What? I'm hungry!"

"Detective Lassiter, Prentiss, we'll see what's up there," Rossi said without bothering to hide an eye roll.

"We should all go. That way we can work a plan of attack out for tomorrow," Henry answered.

"What purpose will that serve, Mr. Spencer? I'm sure the three of us can repor—"

"Accurately? Trust me, Agent Rossi, you'll need as many eyes as –"

"Mr. Spencer, I suggest you –"

Meanwhile, the others were watching the exchange like a tennis match, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two combatants as they exchanged arguments. They exchanged a similar glance. This wasn't entirely unexpected.

"Suggest I _what_, Agent? Sit back and wait while you make decisions for us?"

"I was going to suggest that you accompany us if you are so vehemently opposed to us going alone."

Henry shook his head. "If you're only going to put up with one more, I suggest you take Shawn."

Shawn looked taken aback. "Wait, did he just –"

"Why is that?"

"If anyone'll remember_ all_ the detail, it'll be him."

"Then come on, Spencer, Detective, Prentiss." Rossi started up the stairs, and the others hesitantly followed.

#

The BAU jet landed on the runway, greeted by Vick, Madeleine, and McNabb. As JJ, Garcia, and Strauss stepped off, Vick walked forward.

"Agent Jareau." They shook hands. "I wish we were meeting again under better circumstances."

"So do I. You remember Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia?"

"Vaguely, but you were only here after we found them."

"And this is Section Chief Erin Strauss." JJ motioned to her, and the duo shook hands.

"Very nice to meet you, Section Chief Strauss," Vick said politely. "This is Madeleine Spencer, who I've asked in on the case as well, and Detective McNabb." They exchanged pleasantries, although Strauss was obviously irritated at Vick's inclusion of Madeleine. "I would assume you want to go to the crime scenes first again?"

"Actually, we'd like to drop Garcia off at your station before going ahead," JJ said.

"I don't really like crime scenes," she admitted, pushing her glasses up nervously.

"We can do that as well. I will take you to the crime scenes, and –"

"I can drive Analyst Garcia back, Karen," Madeleine stepped in. Vick nodded.

"And Madeleine will drive you back to the police station."

As they headed towards Vick's sedan, Strauss pulled out her phone. "Agent Jareau, I'm going to contact the Nebraska field office, and they can begin to look into the suspect auction."

JJ, not entirely willing to argue with her, nodded in response as she climbed into the backseat.

#

It was, quite literally, all but the end of the earth.

Special Agent Teresa Flannigan threw the stress ball back up in the air and caught it. _Karma. It _must_ be karma._ She sighed. _But what did I _do_?_

She had graduated from the Academy about two years previously, and was due for a transfer. And she had _put in_ for a transfer – months ago. She'd asked to be put back in Philadelphia, or Baltimore, or even the home office in Wilmington. But no. She was still stuck in Grand Island, Nebraska. She had nothing against Grand Island. She just hated the fact that it had to be one of the most uninteresting places in America. Where _nothing_ ever happened. Granted, after the excitement of her senior year of college, _that_ wasn't surprising.

And here she was, being the wonderfully responsible rookie holding down the office while everyone else was gone. She looked at her watch again. _Damned night shift._

With another heavy sigh she frowned at her computer screen and pulled up her email. Reminder about her dog needing her shots … message from her mother asking when she'd be back on the East Coast … she was just about to shoot off a reply when the phone rang. Sending a couple of files falling to the floor, she dove for it.

"Grand Island Field Office, Special Agent Flannigan."

_Agent Flannigan, I'm transferring Section Chief Erin Strauss to you. She needs the office to check in on an auction done about three years ago._

Teresa kept from expressing her disappointment. "Okay. Transfer it over."

_Thank you._ The operator cut out and she cleared her throat.

_Is this the Grand Island office?_ A stern female voice immediately asked.

"It is. Special Agent Flannigan speaking."

_Did you receive a recent APB sent out by the BAU?_

Teresa fumbled on her desk and located her scrap of paper. "The one about two black Explorers, one with a crumpled rear bumper, and two helicopters?"

_Yes. We traced them back to the estate auction of a Matthew Seager. We would like you to investigate that sale. We're doing what we can on our end, but we would like you to find out what you can._

"Yes, ma'am."

_Please contact myself or Agent Jareau as soon as you learn anything._

"Right away, ma'am." Strauss hung up and Teresa put her phone down, slightly confused. _Why does the BAU need to worry about a three year old estate sale in Nebraska, and they aren't even here? And why aren't _they_ calling me?_ She shrugged, and grabbed her jacket as she dialed her cell.

"Yeah, Sage, look, I just got a call. Meet you outside." She stopped. "You're already home for the night? Damn it. Ok, first thing in the morning then." Teresa flopped back into her chair and pulled up the internet. _At least I have something to do tonight_, she thought as she typed the name _Matthew Seager_ into Google.

#

They had waited in anticipation for their return, but when the group stepped off the stairs, their faces did _not_ look happy.

"What is it?" Reid finally asked, hesitating.

"A maze." Even Shawn looked furious. "A _maze_."

Rossi sighed. "There's nothing more we can do tonight."

End A/N: So Vick and Strauss have met, and . . . things may be bad. And now Rossi and Henry are clashing . . . everything's going to pot!

_*Hopefully*_ chapter 8 will be up tomorrow, I literally _*just*_ inserted a new Chapter 8 and so need to make sure it's up to standards. It's probably gonna be kinda short, but I will be kinda shamelessly shipping a certain Psych couple. . .

Now: Cookies of your choice (although I make a damn good white-chocolate and cranberry cookie, if I do say so myself):

Seafrost Dragon: Are you new? I don't remember seeing you before. If so, welcome to the review section, and have an extra cookie. Thanks!

sfulton: I nearly flipped my car not long after writing that and I know how terrified I was. But if I can see anyone staying calm through that it'd be Hotch. And Morgan's definitely gonna hear it again once they get out. Probably beforehand. I haven't written much past the second floor yet.

Wraith: They all would . . . it's just that Morgan seems to have a knack for running head-on into situations like that. Besides, he's fun to torment like that. And thanks for the support, I keep second-guessing myself.

vivian: Don't worry, I got it. Thanks! :)

vampire-act: You have not reviewed, but I know you're there. Cookie for rabid fan-ness.


	9. Chapter 8: Truce

A/N: I am so sorry for the short hiatus. I can only promise one chapter today but hopefully I'll get two up in honor of the CM finale. Unfortunately I can only type with one hand right now because I burned my thumb making dinner: Do you know how damn hard it is to type with only one hand and four fingers while balancing an ice pack on your thumb? Yeah…that's me.

Here we go. Short, but necessary:

**Chapter 8: Truce**

"_Professor Plum, you were once a professor of psychiatry specializing in helping paranoid and homicidal lunatics suffering from delusions of grandeur."  
"Yes, but now I work for the United Nations."  
"So your work has not changed."_

- _Clue_

They'd given up trying to plan for the next day about an hour before. By now, everyone was exhausted and beginning to snap at each other, so it was better to just disperse, have people alternate alertness, and try to get some shuteye.

Shawn and Gus settled against the back of one of the two couches. "Is it really a maze?" Gus finally asked. Shawn nodded mutely. Gus groaned. "I hate mazes."

"Tell me about it."

"What's up?" Gus eyed Shawn suspiciously.

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "Seriously, dude? We're stuck in a weird-ass house with some crazy psycho and you're asking me what's wrong?"

Gus sighed. "I didn't know if there was something else bothering you."

Shawn echoed Gus' sigh and rested his head on the couch. "We don't even know if they've realized Dad and I are missing."

"Shawn, where would you be if Lassiter, Juliet and I were all missing? Like, constantly?"

"The station. Good point."

"Look. I'm sure they're –"

"Still looking for us in California, without even knowing that the feds are missing."

"Vick's not stupid."

"I'm not worried about her. I'm worried about jurisdiction."

"I'm sure the entire country is on alert, Shawn." Gus didn't like this random turnover. Usually it was _Shawn_ saying stuff like this to him. This sucked. Majorly.

"Hey guys." Juliet sank down next to Shawn. "Can I –"

"Yeah, sure."

"Absolutely." Gus watched as Shawn's demeanor instantly changed.

"So, Jules," Shawn said. "How is everything?"

"Pretty good. Except for, well, this whole thing." She waved her hand around, indicating their current predicament. "How close do you think they are?"

Shawn shrugged. "Chief Vick is, like, John McClane when she gets mad. You know how mama bears are with their cubs? Yeah, that's Vick. Right, Gus?"

"Yeah."

Juliet giggled. "You have a point."

#

"Hey, Agent Rossi. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Rossi looked up from where he was talking to Hotchner. "Sure, Mr. Spencer. One second." He looked sternly back down at Hotchner. "You try and sleep."

Hotchner glared at him with a look that was half-irritated, half-pain-dazed.

Henry and Rossi walked out of the room, passing Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, and Lassiter still trying to plan out the next day's battle with the maze. Just outside the arches Henry stopped him.

"Look, Agent Rossi. About earlier –"

Rossi shook his head. "Mr. Spencer, if you're apologizing, there's no need. We're all –"

"That's the thing. We _are_ all stuck here, and we need to work together if we're planning on getting out anytime soon."

"Truce then?"

"Yeah."

Rossi and Henry firmly shook hands before starting back into the room.

#

Something beeped. In the quiet station, Garcia jumped to her feet. "Jayje!"

JJ, currently finding more coffee, hurried over. Strauss and Vick appeared from Vick's office.

"What's going on?" JJ leaned over Garcia's chair.

"I got a hit on the face from Reid's video." She pointed as Vick and Strauss appeared behind her. "_Marcia Bohn_."

"She shouldn't have jumped to abductions like _this_," JJ said. "Just petty robbery charges?"

"That's all I can see. Looks like her husband, however . . ." Garcia entered the name _Curtis Bohn_ into the computer. "We've got lots of nasty stuff. Assaults, attempted murders, er . . . looks like several murder charges that didn't stick . . ." Something red flashed on her screen. "Oh, God."

"What?" Vick leaned in as Strauss took a step back.

"The file's been flagged by the organized crime task force."

"Former hitman?" JJ asked, looking at the flashing red banner.

"Looks like it," Garcia said, her face twisting with panic. "You don't think he –"

"I'm sure they're fine, Garcia." JJ straightened up.

Strauss proceeded to pull JJ to the side. "I hate them, Agent Jareau, but we should start thinking about –"

"Holding a conference." JJ sighed. "I'll make some calls and get something organized for tomorrow morning."

"See that you do."

#

A/N Again: Thanks and cookies or cupcakes to:

PlumCrazy: YOU'RE NEW! Hi! Thanks for reviewing! There will be Morgan/Garcia moments. No 80s yet, but we're getting there. Unfortunately my 80s lore is not as impressive as Shawn/Gus's …

sfulton: Rossi and Henry are going to have some great moments shortly…I have great plans to them.

Wraith: It's gonna be fun. And no, it's not. Normally I'd be happy to walk on the moving floor too, but, well, not in pitch blackness. And you're welcome. Braces suck. And thanks.

Vampire-act: You're alive! Hahahaha.

Seafrost: Well, welcome back anyway.


	10. Chapter 9: Unexpected Backup

A/N: Thank you for the well-wishes about my thumb. Between the power of Silvadone cream, gauze, medical tape, ibuprofen, and a veterinary technician, the unholy alliance between oven rack and pot holder has been defeated, and I've apparently been awarded a Purple Heart in the War of the Appliances (one of my friends is going through the same type of appliance-ganging-up thing). Stay vigilant, my friends. Now, moving on:

CM Finale: Gaaaaahhhhh that has to be one of the creepiest episodes EVER. Just . . . Tim Curry. He's worse than Foyet, if you ask me, in sheer creep-factor. I mean, Tim Curry plays a pretty good slimeball, doesn't he?

And poor Superhero Morgan… :(

Anyway, here's the next chapter:

**Chapter 9: You Know it's Bad When Strauss Calls for Back-Up**

"_Never consider murder to be business, Mr. Diamond." _

_- Sidney Wang, 'Murder by Death'_

Garcia plugged away at her laptop at Lassiter's desk, still trying to track down the helicopters. It was getting close to seven, and she tried unsuccessfully to hide a yawn.

It just wasn't fair. Nothing was fair anymore.

She fished in her purse before finding one of her travel knickknacks and settling it on the desk. That was better.

"Garcia."

She froze before looking up at Strauss. "Ma'am?"

"I need you to find the contact information for a . . . certain individual . . . and ask for his temporary assistance."

Garcia paled slightly without even having to ask who she meant. "Ma'am, the last time I called him I –"

"I didn't say _you_ would be calling him."

Garcia swallowed before pulling up the number she was looking for. "Here."

Strauss took the information down before walking away, heading for the doors of the station. Garcia slumped back in her chair, and JJ and Vick reappeared by Vick's office.

"Garcia," JJ called over. "Where was Strauss going?"

"She – uh . . . I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say, I mean, she didn't _tell_ me not to, but she didn't say that I _could_ tell you, and it's _Strauss_, and –"

JJ and Vick (overcome by curiosity) were at the desk now, looking down at her. Garcia swallowed again. "Who's she calling, Penelope?"

"She just told me to find Gideon's number."

"Gideon?" Vick looked back and forth between JJ and Garcia. "Who's –"

"That bad?" JJ shrugged. "I didn't even know we still had his –"

"It's always been in the system, I just – well, Strauss told me that – and Hotch tol me – and I broke the rule once, the last time we were here, and I got that heat-seeking satellite, and –"

"Garcia. _Garcia_. It's okay." JJ looked back at Vick. "Gideon used to be on our team. Years ago. He up and left at the end of a pretty brutal stint with a serial killer, and we haven't heard from him since."

"That Gideon?" Vick asked. JJ nodded. "Think he'll come back for this?"

JJ shook her head. "I don't know, but I wouldn't expect him to. Not after how he left."

#

The next morning, FBI Analyst Sage Herriman walked back into the Grand Island office. To her surprise, there was a redheaded agent still slumped over her desk and staring blankly at her computer. Sage walked up, making sure not to come up behind her and minimizing the risk of being judo-thrown for sneaking up behind her. As she circled around the desk, the top of an enormous convenience store coffee lid appeared under the agent's chin.

"Did you get _any_ sleep?" Sage asked. Teresa jumped, nearly spilling her coffee, before glaring at her.

"It was too late by the time I got a hold of you to check out this estate sale for the BAU," Teresa answered, running her hand through her hair. "As soon as we do that I'll head home."

"Yeah, good. I know how you are when you don't sleep."

Teresa glared at her before looking at her paper. "The sale was held in Elwood, down in Gosper County."

"That's at least 80 miles south of here."

"Good thing we're using federal money, then. I'll get the car."

"I'm allowed to go with you?"

"I ran it past the boss. He doesn't think there's a risk of imminent harm. Besides, you're better at math than I am." Teresa stood and was pulling on her jacket.

"Should you be driving?"

"I've driven on less sleep than this. You know that."

"Doesn't mean I was in the car with you."

Teresa glared at her, took an enormous sip out of her coffee, and headed for the door.

#

Someone's watch beeped. With a groan, Gus straightened up and looked at his watch. 4 a.m. He looked over at Shawn, who had propped himself up on the back of the couch next to him before falling asleep, and elbowed him.

"Guuus . . ." Shawn groaned, as movement behind them indicated that everyone else was responding to the alarm the same way. "Whassamatta?"

"Wake up," Gus said derisively before standing and stretching. Shawn stuck his tongue out at him as he nudged Juliet, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

"Mornin', Jules," he said as she stirred. Mascara had blackened the circles under her eyes more than could have been expected, and it gave her a slightly raccoon-ish look. Shawn couldn't help but laugh.

"What time is it?"

"Four," Gus answered. Juliet stretched. "At least in California time. 7, I think, for them."

"How're you feeling, Aaron?" Rossi asked as he stood. Hotchner slit his eyes open.

"Fine." His voice was cracked with pain. Rossi gave him his usual _sure-you-are-but-I'll-play-along-this-time_ look.

"So," Morgan said as he pulled Prentiss to her feet. "Shall we get this over with?"

"I'll stay down here," Rossi said, glancing over Hotchner. "You guys go ahead."

Morgan nodded. "Okay. Come on."

They moved out of the main room, and away across the hall. Rossi looked down at Hotchner, who was glaring up at his friend half-heartedly.

"Go. I'm fine."

Rossi scoffed. "Aaron, you do know you're trying to lie to a bunch of profilers."

"I don't need a nursemaid." Hotchner didn't resist as Rossi checked his pulse.

"No, what you _need_ is a _hospital_."

Hotchner decided to not argue with that particular statement as Rossi settled into the end of the couch closest to him. "How do you think Strauss is right now?"

"Probably about to implode," Rossi said with a chuckle.

#

Strauss, JJ, and Garcia slept in shifts, meeting back up at the station around four. Vick had ended up sleeping in her office again, and McNabb was currently handing out coffee to the agents and the chief as if it was Halloween candy.

Nothing new had come up overnight. Madeleine was still trying to come up with some idea of the group behind this, but neither she nor the FBI database were familiar with any groups using helicopters or Explorers to kidnap groups of law enforcement personnel.

Around seven, an individual wearing a simple flannel shirt and jeans walked into the station. McNabb, who was heading out for more coffee, stopped him.

"Uh, sir? Can I help you?"

The man looked up at him and met his eyes with an intense blue stare. "I'm looking for Section Chief Erin Strauss."

"Er . . . right this way, sir." McNabb had been tempted to ask for identification but decided it wasn't worth it, and led the newcomer to the makeshift conference area. As they approached, Vick addressed him without even turning.

"McNabb, I hope that's you with coffee."

"Not yet, ma'am. Um, Chief Strauss, he –"

To his surprise, Strauss and the other two agents stood as they looked up. "I was expecting you an hour ago," Strauss said dismissively.

"Charming, as usual, Erin." Strauss' usual demeanor disappeared in a uncharacteristic, relieved grin.

"Your help is desperately needed, Jason." She turned to Vick, McNabb, and Madeleine. "This is former SSA Jason Gideon. I called him to see if he would be willing to lend his expertise to this case."

"We certainly need the help," Madeleine stood to shake Gideon's hand. "Dr. Madeleine Spencer. I've read some of your work."

"And I believe I've come across some of yours," Gideon said with a tense smile. "Now, what exactly is going on here?"

#

"_Finally_," Teresa groaned, jumping out of the vehicle as 8:30 registered on the SUV's clock. "Let's check this out."

The two walked up towards the antiquated Gosper County courthouse, a simple brick rectangle with several stories rising over the small houses in Elwood, and approached a small information center just inside the entrance.

"Special Agent Flannigan," Teresa said, showing the woman her badge. "And FBI Crime Analyst Herriman. Where would we go to find information on an estate sale held approximately four years ago for a Matthew Seager?"

"I'm not sure. I would try the Clerk's office. Second floor."

"Thanks." Teresa and Sage started up the steps.

#

While filling in Gideon, Strauss' phone rang. "It's the Grand Island field office. They may know something."

"Put it on speaker," Gideon said, leaning in on the table.

"This is Section Chief Strauss," Strauss said, setting the phone on the table. Vick looked down at it.

_Chief Strauss, this is Agent Flannigan, with the Grand Island field office_. Garcia looked over at JJ and pointed at the phone. JJ nodded, a confused look on her face. _I just left the Gosper County courthouse. Matthew Seager was apparently a bit of a rich loner who had an estate south of Elwood, Nebraska. By rich, I mean billionaire-like-rich. I'm not entirely sure how he _made_ his money, but I would assume that, with the location, it's either mining or oil. He and his wife were killed about five years ago in a suspicious accident in Kansas. His brother was the will's executor and deemed the Seagers' daughter incapable of keeping their belongings – hence the estate sale. _

"You got all this from the courthouse?"

_The clerk I spoke with actually knew Matthew Seager, and apparently this was a big scandal. His daughter, Elizabeth, had been diagnosed with histrionic personality disorder as a child. No one's _seen_ her since the estate sale, but she apparently managed to get most of the money and the remaining belongings away from her uncle. Just before she disappeared, she was diagnosed with borderline as well. _

Gideon shook his head slightly. "That's not a good mix."

"Do you think you can track her down?"

_I might be able to. _

_With borderline it'd be hard for her to go too unnoticed, and she'd still be in contact with people she trusts._ Another voice cut into the Nebraska-end of the dialogue.

_Yeah, Sage, which is why we're going to try her uncle, although she wouldn't consider him close after he 'betrayed' her. But if an aunt or a cousin kept in touch with her they may know where she is._

"Do you think this case is based out of there?" Gideon asked.

_Um . . ._ There was hesitation as the other agent faltered. _Was I on speaker this entire time?_

"It's only the task force here in California."

_Er. Okay then. Well. I don't even know what the case is, but if it's related to the Seager estate sale it _looks_ like it is based out of here. I wouldn't make any drastic trips yet until there's more solid evidence, but if you're running out of places to look in Cali then it might be a good move._

"This wouldn't happen to be Teresa, would it?" JJ asked, finally sensing a break in the conversation.

_It would be. Why?_

"It's Agent Jareau."

_JJ! How have you been? _

"We can trust her, Strauss," JJ said hesitantly. "She's one of the former students from that incident four years ago in Maryla–"

"Just when my day couldn't get worse." Strauss ran her hand through her hair. "Agent Flannigan, are you still there?"

_I am, Chief Strauss._

"All of the BAU is missing, except Agent Jareau and Analyst Garcia. We're in California because several members of the Santa Barbara police department are missing as well."

There was an incredibly long pause. _Come on. April Fools' is long gone._

"This isn't a joke, Flannigan."

There was another pause. _Oh god._

"What?"

_If she's got borderline, she may have latched onto the team. If she felt that her parents' deaths were – the land around here is perfect for concealment of any sort of structure. Once I talk to Seager's uncle I'll call you back, but I'm going to call back to the field office and see if they can start scanning the area near the old Seager estate for any structures. _

"I'll put in the call myself," Strauss said.

_Thanks. I'll call you back as soon as I know anything_.

Strauss hung up and looked up at the table. "We may be heading to Nebraska soon."

#

A/N: Nebraska: Apparently a fanfic author's picking grounds for all people crazy and homicidal. I'm happy to join the throng! Trying to post two today for you guys, but I'm not sure if Chapter 10 is fully ready to go.

Cookies for the following:

Wraith: Lots of happy dances! And yes, things getting more interesting is good . . . including this chapter. Onto the maze on level 2 . . . This is starting to sound like a video game.

sfulton, EriKa, Scribe: Thanks guys!

Vballangel: Well, that was a quick "oh-I-should-probably-have-something-about-that-night" chapter. Now we're back to the full-on ones. And hopefully my disjointedness and my cliffies aren't going to kill ya too much.

Vampire-act: No. Because as you could tell from my comment above I still think of the S5 finale unsub as Tim Curry. Because it _is_ Tim Curry. And the truce is gonna get interesting shortly. Very, _very_ interesting. Or at least by chapter 14. And no Reid/Shawn except friendship. I just don't do slash. Not my thing.

Oh, one more thing. By Morgan/Garcia I don't mean that I ship them. I like Garcia/Lynch too much. But there's gonna be some great stuff there shortly. Only ship in this story is Shules.

Also, this is going to be interesting because 1. I've never written a story with Gideon as an active individual in it 2. I think I'm one of the only person on the planet who actually doesn't like him that much. So . . . oh boy.


	11. Chapter 10: Bad Things Definition Please

A/N: 50 REVIEWS? _50 REVIEWS_? Already? For 10 chapters? O_o… I just feel so loved….

Anyway, here's tonight's chapters. No idea about this weekend, because of my parents. Hang with me.

2nd A/N, added 29 May: Thanks to EriKaBalDel at Psychfic I've been informed that I just gave Rossi legit psychic powers and he said something about Nebraska. That's been fixed.

**Chapter 10: Bad Things? Definition Please?**

_"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die."_

"_Die?"_

"_Merely quoting, sir, from Alfred Lord Tennyson."  
"Hm, I prefer Kipling, myself. 'The female of the species is more deadly than the male.' Do you like Kipling, Miss Scarlet?"  
"Sure, I'll eat anything."_

_- Clue_

"Okay, what the hell is going on?"

They'd been on the second floor for at least three hours, trying to get through the door into the maze.

"Wasn't this open last night?" Prentiss asked.

"Yeah," Shawn kicked it hopelessly. "This was totally open yesterday."

"How the hell did it close?" Lassiter glared at it, like the sheer force of his will would open the stupid piece of wood.

"There has to be something." Reid had gone over the entire room with his eyes but hadn't seen anything indicating another hidden door or other way to get into the maze the others had sworn existed yesterday.

"Wait a sec." Shawn stared at the door, a small, discolored area jumping out at him. "There's something here."

"Where?" Reid hurried over and looked over his shoulder.

"Right here." Shawn outlined it. "I think . . ." He gently pushed on the top of the discolored square, and as he did there was a loud creaking noise. The wood flipped out to reveal a blank monitor, and a small section of wall swung down to reveal a dark hole – nothing more.

"What the hell is this?" Henry looked into the hole.

"Wait a sec." Words appeared on the screen, and Reid, Shawn, and Lassiter caught a glimpse before they swiftly disappeared.

"What? Reid?" Prentiss asked as the trio stepped back from the now-blank screen. They were silent, the non-initiates looking at the other three expectantly.

"It's how we have to open the door," Reid finally said, looking down at the hole.

"I'll do it," Lassiter said with a heavy sigh.

"Lassie, you can't go sticking your –"

"Spencer, firstly, you're a civilian. Secondly, I have longer arms than you. We don't know how far that goes back, and –"

"Absolutely not," Morgan cut in. "There has to be another way to open this door without risking anyone's limbs."

"I doubt there is, Morgan," Lassiter argued. "One way or another, for us to get the hell out of here, one of us needs to get in there and hopefully the door'll open."

Morgan bit his lip. "Okay. Go ahead."

"I don't like this," Juliet said, shaking her head.

"This is crazy, Lassiter," Gus argued. "You have no idea what's living down there. There might be black widows or someth–"

"Well that doesn't matter, does it, Guster?" Lassiter snapped before swallowing and pushing his arm into the darkness.

#

"Agent Rossi, it is nice to speak with you again."

The silky, ethereal voice cut through Hotchner and Rossi's conversation, and the two looked up at the screen and the blacked-out figure.

"It's been a while," Rossi said delicately.

"I am, however, confused," she said, seemingly ignoring his comment. "As to why you aren't with your teams upstairs."

"Because," Rossi swallowed painfully, prepared to use every hostage-negotiating bone in his body for his next statement. "Agent Hotchner needs a doctor. He's very injured from the accident that resulted in his abduction, and –"

"I'm sure that Agent Hotchner is not _seriously_ injured. Besides," her voice changed, as if she was . . . smiling? Suggestive? . . . "I quite like him where he is."

Hotchner felt that phrase strike him like a two-by-four, and started coughing as his breath caught in his throat. Rossi turned back to him. "Aaron, you –"

"Dave." Hotchner leaned back against the chair, not-quite-as-injured arm holding his side. "I'm fine." They looked back up, and the image on the screen was watching them curiously. Not satisfied, the older profiler stood and leaned over his friend nervously.

"You sure about that?"

Hotchner finally shook his head. "No, but there's nothing we can do. Dave." His voice dropped. "I figured it out. Some of it, at least."

"Oh," the voice said lightly, and Rossi glanced back at the screen. "It appears that your teams have gained entrance to the maze." The screen went dark.

#

"How's it going, Carlton?" Henry rubbed the detective's shoulder, and Lassiter grimaced.

"It's _disgusting_." His hand broke through a spider-web, and Lassiter couldn't help an enormous shudder.

"What?" Morgan was immediately next to him.

"Just a cobweb." There was a collective shudder as Lassiter shook his head and pressed his arm further into the hole – past his elbow. "God, I hope this hole doesn't go much deeper." His hand hit the back of the hole. "Wait, I found the back. Check the door."

Prentiss jiggled the handle. "Still locked."

"Damn it." Lassiter grit his teeth. "I'm going to start seeing if there's a switch or anything on the sides."

"She's probably doing this just to make us look stupid," Shawn said, glaring up as if that was where _she_ was located.

"There's a switch here," Lassiter said. "Should I –"

"Yes," Everyone said in unison.

Lassiter gently moved the switch down, and the screen flickered to light. On it was the now-familiar black figure.

"Congratulations," she said, the tone of her voice almost seductive. "You have gained access to the maze." Lassiter pulled his arm out, beginning to brush dust and grime off his sleeve. "Two are allowed forty-five minutes in the maze to reach the other side. I suggest you choose wisely, as there will be a series of challenges they must complete to progress through the maze."

"What happens if the forty-five minutes run out?" Gus asked, panic evident in his voice.

"Bad things," she said simply, after a pause. "Bad things."

Shawn tilted his head and squinted at the screen. There were a series of lines dancing, almost unnoticeable, across the screen, looking almost like . . . a _maze _. . .

"Good luck."

The screen went dark, and took the lines with it. They were silent.

"Well, now what?" Henry really hated this . . . skulking and puzzling and lack of answers. It would be a _lot_ better if the stupid broad would just show up and let them take her out.

"Two of us need to go through the maze." Juliet sank down against the wall, rubbing her forehead. She was _so_ tired, and she just did _not_ like this. Anyone who went into the maze could easily die, and in their states God only knew what would happen if someone died. She was almost positive that Morgan and Lassiter could form a coalition and tear the entire building apart by hand, trying to find their captor, if that happened.

"Reid, Shawn." Morgan's voice cut through the long, ensuing silence. "You two are our best chance."

"What? No." Henry immediately protested.

"I'm going to be the only way any sort of puzzle or whatever is going to get solved without taking away from the time." Reid answered for Morgan immediately.

"What about Shawn?"

Morgan and Shawn exchanged a look, and Shawn knew that Morgan had seen the head-cock and squint at the screen. "I can get through the maze the fastest, Dad. You know that," Shawn answered for himself. "Morgan, did Agent Rossi give you his knife?"

"You need it?"

"Yeah. It'll be good to mark corners if we need to retrace our steps."

Morgan passed the knife over to him, and Shawn dropped it in one of his pockets.

"You ready?" Reid was poised with his hand on the handle. Shawn nodded.

"Let's get this over with."

"Guys." Juliet's voice cut through. "Be careful."

Reid twisted the handle and pushed in the door.

As soon as they had stepped through, the door slammed shut, and the silky voice echoed around them. "You have forty-five minutes. Beginning now."

Shawn's hands leapt to his forehead. "This way." With Reid jogging along after him, Shawn hurried down the dim, grey hallway. _Left._ _Now right. Now left again . . . right . . ._ Shawn started to lose track as he marked each corner with an X, and they came to an archway, leading to an open room. "Reid."

"Yeah. I see it. How much time have we lost?"

The duo ran into the bare room. "Five minutes."

"Hopefully there's only five minutes between rooms." Reid examined the wall next to the closed door on the other side of the room. "Here it is."

"Here _what_ is?"

Reid pointed to a section of wall inscribed with a short sentence, just above a small keyboard. "'A riddle without an answer.'"

"What the hell does . . ." Shawn and Reid glanced at each other.

#

JJ took up position on the steps in front of the Santa Barbara police department, eyeing the names of news stations on the sides of the cameras. Nearby was a federal agent, who Strauss had tasked with streaming the message live online for radio stations. JJ had to admit, Strauss could get strings pulled. She glanced back at the section chief, who nodded.

"The FBI is issuing a nationwide alert," She began. "Several of our agents have been abducted from the Washington, D.C. area. With them are believed to be five individuals associated with the Santa Barbara, California Police Department. It is believed that the individuals involved in the abductions used vehicles purchased at an estate sale in Nebraska for the crimes' commission. The locations of the . . ." JJ hesitated before continuing. ". . . Victims are currently unknown. The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit is working in conjunction with the Grand Island, Nebraska field office and the Santa Barbara Police Department to locate our missing individuals.

"Everyone is asked to be on the lookout for the following individuals: Agents Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Emily Prentiss, Detectives Carlton Lassiter and Juliet O'Hara, Retired Police Sergeant Henry Spencer, and consultants Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster.

"Anyone suspected to be involved with the abductions is being considered armed and dangerous, and should not be approached by civilians.

"If anyone has any information about the disappearances or the whereabouts of the aforementioned individuals, they are to contact the FBI's tip line at the number below. Questions?"

"How were five federal agents abducted?" The reporter from CNN sounded doubtful that it had actually happened. JJ resisted the urge to impale him with a glare on live TV.

"We are keeping that classified."

"Is it true that one of the agents may be seriously injured?"

"It is."

"How can you be sure that the disappearances here in Santa Barbara are related to the ones in Washington?"

"The pattern of abduction is identical. The vehicles used are identical. We traced them back to the same estate sale. There are too many coincidences for this to be unrelated. Thank you."

With the usual clamor, the reporters tried to get JJ to answer more questions. She ignored them, and they reentered the station.

"I hate press conferences," Strauss muttered as they headed back towards Garcia and Gideon.

"Unfortunately, they're a necessary evil." Vick sighed.

"Hopefully we'll get something useful."

Garcia looked up as they walked back. "I forwarded the picture of the woman from surveillance to Te – er, Agent Flannigan."

"We thought they might still be there helping Seager, so if Agent Flannigan spots her we may have a lead."

#

"What did you figure out?" Rossi was met with silence. "Aaron?"

"Oh. Sorry." Hotchner shifted slightly on the chair. "She's borderline."

"Someone who's borderline wouldn't have the _focus_ necessary to plan something like this," Rossi argued.

"There are highly-functioning borderline individuals. All it would take is some sort of trigger – a death or something – for her to have snapped to this magnitude. Especially if she felt that the police didn't investigate her complaints, she would have –"

"But I doubt we've ever come in contact with her –" Rossi suddenly sat down with a cut-off laugh. "What she said earlier. She's taking it out on law enforcement in general."

"We're visible, and recently they've been visible, so –"

Rossi shook his head. "It fits, and it makes sense. But this level of precise function is almost unheard of."

"It must be coupled with some other disorder," Hotchner said. "Usually depression, histrionic, and antisocial are linked with borderline – right?"

"Histrionic fits the best. Highly-functioning, attention seeking – Aaron, she's become focused on you."

"Don't think I haven't realized that." Hotchner shifted in his chair again. His back was getting progressively more stiff.

"Just avoid pissing her off. You might be the way we get out of this."

"Dave, you're asking me to tread a very thin line."

Rossi sighed. "I know that, Aaron. But if all this –" He waved his hand as if to indicate the house. "Doesn't have an exit, or a point, and we're just doing this for her amusement, then that may be the only way we can get a message to anyone."

Hotchner sighed. "I'll do my best. But we shouldn't give up escaping on our own yet."

#

A/N: Hotch really ought to be getting some medical attention . . . stupid psycho. He'll be fine . . . after a lot of medical intervention, coming within several hours (story-wise) of this chapter. Now, those receiving cookies are:

Vampire-act: Not that I was assuming anything, but usually when there's a Name/Name it seems to indicate some sort of sexual relationship. Or at least that's what I've started thinking, with my cruises on . And no, Gideon won't be dying off, but he will be disappearing as mysteriously as he appeared.

Wraith: It doesn't indeed. But we will prevail, after all we have brains. And Psych . . . can't wait to see what they're doing with Yin!

Vballangel: As long as everyone's following it.

sfulton: Well, I guess it has something to do with the fact that five of her best agents went "poof." But she's about to let it get in the way.


	12. Chapter 11: Dead Cows

A/N: Mwhahaha. I have updated on a Saturday. I'm proud of myself. And don't worry, the "riddle-without-an-answer" riddle is juuuuust there to piss off Reid. As is the second one. Otherwise, though . . . Here we go:

**Chapter 11: Dead Cows**

_In need of a hint, Miss Marbles? You all mistake what you assume. THEY NEVER LEFT THE DINING ROOM! Count the numbers one to ten, turn the knob and try again!_

_- Lionel Twain, Murder by Death_

"I understand, sir." Teresa folded her arms flat on the desk as Charles Seager sipped his coffee. "But you need to understand that finding your niece is imperative."

"Elizabeth is _crazy_," Seager stated again. "They said so. They said she wasn't able to function."

"Who is 'they?'"

"The doctors. Matt and Liza would take her over to Grand Island once a week for counseling, before they were killed."

"How did she react to that? Their deaths, I mean."

"Violently. She locked herself in the house and refused to come out. It took everything my wife could do to talk her out."

"What did you do with her then?"

"When she found out she wasn't the executor of the will she almost attacked the lawyer. We were forced to put her in a hospital."

"And when she left the hospital?"

"That was when she disappeared. We haven't heard from her since. Somehow she managed to get her hands on all the money from the sale and then was gone."

"How long ago was this?"

"About three years. Not long after the funerals and the estate sale."

"Your wife." Teresa leaned back in her chair on the other side of his desk. "Where is she?"

"Probably in Grand Island. She's working the night shift here at the local clinic. That would be the best time to find her."

"Thanks." Teresa fished out her card. "Please call me if Elizabeth contacts you or you learn her whereabouts."

"I will." Teresa stood and left the small office at the back of the store to return to the SUV. Once behind the wheel, she dropped her forehead onto it and groaned.

"That bad?" Sage handed her a sandwich from a local diner. Teresa nodded.

"That bad."

"Well, while you were in there, they ran JJ's conference on the radio."

"Any good news?"

"No."

"Well, we're sticking around here until tonight, when –"

"Wait." Sage pointed through the windshield. "Is that the woman they saw abducting Reid?"

"Hm?" Teresa squinted. "Oh, hell."

#

JJ left the station to catch some fresh air. It had been at least two hours since anything had happened, and she was already exhausted. Even the tip line was surprisingly silent – unless you believed that aliens or Bigfoot had taken a vested interest in the BAU or SBPD. She didn't know what they were waiting for. They _had_ to be in Nebraska, so why were _they_ still in California?

Although, granted, JJ had to admit that her personal connection to the case might be impairing her judgment.

"JJ."

"Sir."

Gideon joined her at the rail, leaning on it heavily. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Awkward silence. "You?"

He shrugged slightly. "I've been staying busy."

"That's good."

"I hear Dave came back."

"Yeah. It's gone pretty well."

"How's Spencer?"

"Spence?" JJ nodded. "He's, uh, been doing well too. Still attracts UnSubs like a magnet, though."

Gideon chuckled. "Good." They fell silent again.

"Why are we still here?"

"Hm?"

"In California. If everything is pointing to Nebraska, do _you_ know why we're here?"

Gideon sighed. "Strauss. She doesn't want to make a move until we're sure that's where they are. Always been like that, when she gets involved in cases. Now, this agent there, in Nebraska – you said you know her?"

"Garcia and I both do, although I know her better."

"How? She's only been an agent for two years, according to Garcia."

"We met on a case about four years ago, when she was a senior in college."

"Must have been some case."

"We ended up stuck on the college campus for about three weeks."

"I remember hearing about that," Gideon answered. "You were trapped in a naval quarantine. Some sort of biological spill?"

"You . . . _could_ . . . call it that. That's what the gag ord—" JJ was cut off by the door opening.

"Guys?" Garcia asked from behind them. "Strauss was looking for you."

"She sent _you_?"

"Yeah."

"All-new low." Gideon stalked back into the department, followed by Garcia and JJ.

"Did you ask him?"

JJ shook her head. "It felt too awkward."

#

"It's so simple."

"Then type it in."

Reid glanced down at the keyboard before punching in the word "riddle." The door swung open. "Take the lead."

The duo hurried out of the room and into the next hallway. After another five minutes of gouging, turning, and Shawn running the outlined maze through his head, they came to the next room. Reid immediately beelined for the next door.

"Fifteen minutes taken up."

"We're going to have to start running."

"I know. What is it this time?"

"'In two decks of cards, what is the least amount of cards you must take to be guaranteed at least one four-of-a-kind?'" Reid shook his head and pulled the keyboard to himself, punching in "40." The door opened. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Are you getting frustrated?"

"It happens. Sometimes." Reid stormed out the door and Shawn hurried after him. "It's almost as frustrating as how you're able to effortlessly navigate this stupid maze."

"Oh, there's effort involved."

"Shawn, we both know that psychic abilities are unproven at best, and nonexistent at worst. Your hyper-observation is good, but this is just insane. How've you already seen the maze?"

Shawn didn't answer, and instead picked up the pace going through the maze. "Reid, I don't need –"

"I'm sorry, Shawn." Reid managed to fully apologize at full stride. "I'm just frustrated, and I'm pretty sure I'm in major caffeine withdrawal."

Shawn chuckled. "I'm sure you are. I'm sure everyone else is too."

"I don't doubt that."

They turned a corner and the maze opened up into another room. "There's the door."

Reid sprinted towards it, and immediately skimmed the puzzle. "What's the time?"

"We're twenty-five in."

Reid chewed his lip. "This is going to take a while."

"Why?" Shawn hurried over to the wall and read it. "Oh."

_Solve the Following, Dr. Reid: COW x COW = DEDCOW_.

"Dead cows," Shawn said. "That's comforting."

#

"I would like to let you know that Dr. Reid and Mr. Spencer have made it to the third room in the second-floor maze," the silky voice said. Hotchner and Rossi both looked up at the screen.

"I didn't know anything about a maze." Hotchner glanced over at Rossi, earning a worried look from the older profiler.

"We were talking about it right in front of you last night."

"Oh. _That_ maze." He immediately remembered and mentally chided himself for forgetting, although he was sure it was more of his lingering concussion's fault.

"Obviously, Aaron, they're choosing to keep you in the dark." Hotchner swallowed a sharp reply.

"It appears so. You know, I never did catch your name, but since we seem to be on a first-name basis now it would be nice to –"

Rossi rubbed his forehead. He hated to put Hotchner in such an awkward situation, but he knew it had to be done. And the subtle set in Hotchner's jaw indicated that he knew it had to be done just as much as he knew he wasn't going to enjoy the experience.

"Elizabeth," the figure said, squirming slightly in her chair, seemingly delighted at Hotchner's attention.

"It's a, um, beautiful name."

"Why, thank you."

Rossi rubbed his forehead. "I'm going to check on Morgan. I'll be back."

For a brief second, a look that might have been indicative of "please-God-don't-leave-me-with-this-insane-female-who's-fawning-over-me" crossed over Hotchner's face, but he nodded. "I'm sure they're fine."

"I know, but . . . I'll see you in a few minutes." Rossi glanced back at the screen before walking back into the hallway. With a sigh, Hotchner turned back to the screen.

#

A/Nx2: Two of you receive cookies:

sfulton: It always cheers me up to see your reviews. :) Hope the rest of the maze cheers you up even more!

Wraith: Yeaaah . . . psycho is bad. And usually I like riddles, but this chapter included one that I don't even know _how_ you solve it, and . . . yeah. It involves math and DEDCOWs. What can I say? I also think they're gonna wait. But it's gonna be a fun wait. One I don't want to wait any more for.


	13. Chapter 12: Break in Case of Psycho

A/N: Happened to realize that this entire story is bereft of something:

Disclaimer: I do not own the creative geniuses of Steve Franks or Ed Bernero and associates, Nebraska, Skype, Ford, helicopters, _Clue_, _Murder by Death_, Grand Island, NE, Analyst Sage Herriman or any other public characters or businesses even marginally associated with this story. I do own Teresa, Marcia and Curtis Bohn, Eric Morton, other original characters, and the Seager family. Technically, I do own Sage, but one of my friends gets a lot of credit for the character. She knows who she is.

And now, the answer to the I-still-don't-know-how-it-works DEDCOW riddle:

**Chapter 12: Break In Case of Psycho**

"_What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?"  
"No, just death, isn't that enough?"_

_- Clue_

"How can you even solve this?"

"It's . . . well, obviously, there are two sets of three numbers that are identical. _COW_ and _COW_. So we need a number that multiplies up to another six-digit number with three digits the same as the original factors. That; and two of the digits in the first three numbers of the output are the same – hence the two D's in _DED_."

"Sure, to . . . whatever you just said."

"So if we . . ." Reid bit his lip and went silent, starting to do the math in his head. Shawn glanced nervously between the agent, the riddle, and his watch. They were up to thirty minutes – fifteen left – and Reid hadn't figured it out yet.

"_Bad things_."

_Don't panic. Do. Not. Panic._ Shawn took a deep breath.

"Here we are." Shawn leaned over as Reid started to plug in digits. "Let's hope this works."

_376 x 376 = 141376_

"You sure that's right?"

"No. There may be any number of answers. But this is the first one I came to."

There was a _ding_, and the door opened.

"Apparently it is." Shawn and Reid stepped through the door. "We're down to ten minutes."

"Then we need to hurry."

#

Morgan looked down at his watch. They'd been gone for almost thirty-five minutes. "Come on, guys."

"They'll come through." Morgan looked across the room at Prentiss. "They have to."

"I sure as hell hope so." He rubbed his head. "Because I swear to _God_, if something happens to them . . ."

"Why are you all sitting around?" Rossi emerged from the stairs. "Nothing to do?"

"We were only allowed to send two in."

He glanced around the room. "Reid and Spencer. Good choices. Just don't tell them I said so." Rossi sank heavily against the wall next to Morgan. Lassiter raised an eyebrow. God help _him_ if Rossi was starting to be okay with Spencer.

"How's Agent Hotchner holding up?" Gus asked. Next to him, Juliet echoed Morgan's earlier move and rubbed her forehead, glancing nervously at the door.

Rossi sighed. "That's why I'm up here. Our . . . friend . . . is currently talking to him."

"And you left him there?" Morgan was on his feet. Rossi pulled him back down.

"Calm down. Surprisingly, she poses more of a threat to us than him." Rossi took a deep breath. "Before she apparently came up here to address you guys, she was talking to us. Hotch diagnosed her as a histrionic borderline."

"Oh _god_." Prentiss rubbed her forehead. "You agree with him?"

"I wasn't sure. She's highly-functional for a borderline. But considering that sitting in on the last chat they were having made me feel like the third wheel to a forced blind date, I'm inclined to agree."

"Is Hotchner playing along?" Lassiter asked.

"Fully. At the least, he might get some ideas about who she is should we get out of here. At the most, he might be able to convince her to get her lackeys to take him to a hospital."

"That bad?" Juliet said quietly.

Rossi nodded. "I think he might still be losing blood, but I don't know from where. Slowly, obviously not arterial. It's almost dangerous to move him, now, but he's holding up." Rossi looked over at Morgan. "How long did she give them?"

"Forty-five minutes." Henry rubbed the back of his head.

"How long have they been in there?"

Morgan looked down at his watch, then up at the ceiling. "Forty."

#

"Reid. I've got a riddle and a keypad but no door." Shawn pointed forward and Reid ran past him towards the door set in the hallway.

"What's our time?"

"You've got five minutes."

"Great." Reid skimmed the next "riddle."

"What is it?"

BKHHKS UKQN XHEOO WJZ PDA QJERANOA SEHH KLAJ ZKKNO BKN UKQ SDANA PDANA SANA KJHU SWHHO

"It's a cryptogram," Reid said. "Each of these letters stands for another –"

"Reid, I only act stupid." Shawn squinted at the collection of letters. "What are you thinking?"

"It looks like a simple substitution cipher. I just have to figure out how many letters were shifted over."

"Can you do that in five minutes?"

"This isn't the hardest cipher I've seen. Give me a minute."

Shawn nervously glanced down at his watch. They were up to forty-two minutes. _Come on_ . . . _come on . . . _Forty-three . . .

"Here we go." Reid started typing into the keyboard. "The letters were moved four places. This should be right."

"'Should?'"

"It's so simple that I might have messed it up."

"That's reassuring."

"I'm getting words, though, so I think it's good." Shawn leaned over his shoulder.

_Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls._

"Strangely sentimental for a crazy psychotic kidnapper," Shawn commented.

"But relevant." Reid hit 'enter,' and part of the wall slid open, revealing the room. "How much time?"

"One minute."

The duo sprinted into the room. "Shawn, lever."

Shawn ran to the wall and glanced over the glass. "It's covered. Look out."

"I don't think –"

Gritting his teeth, Shawn slammed his elbow through the glass. Wincing, he used his other hand to reach through the broken shards and pull the lever down. They waited.

"Maybe we should start running."

"I don't –"

"Congratulations." Her voice echoed in the room. "You have made it in time. You may now return to your companions."

"You ok?"

Shawn looked down at his arm, shredded from the glass, and then down at his other hand, also bloody and scraped. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Shawn nodded before looking back up. "Let's get out of here."

#

Morgan looked down at his watch. "Forty four and a half."

"Will you stop it?" Juliet snapped. "We don't want a countdown of how soon it'll be before they –"

The wall next to Rossi rumbled, and he jumped to his feet. The wall sank into the floor, revealing another staircase.

"They must have made it," Lassiter said. Morgan stood up.

"They must have."

Twenty minutes later, the duo walked back through the door, Shawn having pulled off his polo and wrapped it around his right arm.

"What happened?" Juliet tried to unwrap the shirt, but Shawn shrugged her off.

"There was a 'break in case of emergency' case over the lever. I decided kicking it wasn't cool enough. I'm fine."

#

Teresa pushed the SUV into _drive_ and began moving up next to the lean blonde. Sage rolled down her window as they drew level to her. "Hi. You wouldn't happen to be Mrs. Marcia Bohn, would you?"

She suddenly resembled a deer trapped in the view of a semi and froze for a split second before starting to run.

"Damn it." Teresa threw the car into park and jumped out the door, sprinting after her. "Federal agent! Stop running!"

"Here we go." Sage ran around the car to climb into the driver's seat and start after them.

Meanwhile, Teresa was not far behind Marcia, who was doing rather well for sprinting in stilettos. Unfortunately, even as the wife of a hit-man, she hadn't quite mastered the "escape the police" maneuver, which probably involved several jaunts down side streets and hiding behind numerous standing objects. Along the street, several individuals had stepped out of their homes to watch the chase. It wasn't every day that a federal agent chased someone through Elwood. In fact, it wasn't every day _anyone_ chased someone through Elwood.

Teresa finally got close enough to Marcia to tackle her to the ground. Pulling out her cuffs, she pulled the woman's arms behind her and cuffed them. "Got a guilty conscience, Mrs. Bohn?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Then why'd you run?"

Sage stopped the car and jumped out of the driver's seat. "You okay?"

Teresa pulled Marcia up to her feet. "Yeah. Mrs. Bohn here might not be, but she had a nasty little fight with the pavement."

"It's probably the shoes. Plus you getting her knees."

"Next time you'll _stop_ running when someone yells 'federal agent,' won't you?" Teresa looked back at Sage. "Call the local sheriff's, find out if they have a room we can borrow. I'll walk her over. Then make sure you call JJ or Chief Strauss so you can let them know who we found."

###

A/N: Cookies go to:

Wraith: Same here, same here. I hate math anyway. So I found the riddle, did a Shawn sort of reaction, and immediately decided to throw it at Reid. I still don't know how you solve it. Plus, it involves dead cows. Disturbing, much?

sfulton: And it's only gonna get more awkward.

vampire-act: Seriously. How can you doubt the power of Spencer Squared?

vivian: Always like to hear that I'm not alone.


	14. Chapter 13: Vick vs Strauss, Part 1

A/N: Okay, so what happens when you combine 2 college classes, the summer, a county fair, my senior thesis starting, a week away from technology, and grad school apps? MY LIFE! Anyway, hopefully updates will pick up again. I haven't written past Chapter 17 (I think) so it might stall a little again as the semester gets into full swing.

But for now, my patient fans, here you go:

**Chapter 13: Vick vs. Strauss, Part 1**

"_I don't get it. First they steal the body and leave the clothes, then they take the clothes and bring the body back. Who would do a thing like that?"_

"_Possibly some deranged dry cleaner." _

_- Murder by Death_

Strauss' phone rang. She opened it, but neglected to put it on speaker. Vick fought the urge to glare at her – the damn woman had been annoying the hell out of her all day, and it was taking every ounce of professionalism Vick possessed to not deck her. Granted, Vick was already on edge, so that wasn't surprising. McNabb glanced nervously between Vick, JJ, and Gideon. "Strauss." She was silent, and they all stared at her. "You did."

"Erin," Gideon said softly. She glared at him before putting her phone on speaker.

_-ed up next to her after interviewing Seager's uncle. She took off and I ended up taking her down several blocks away. She's currently sitting tight in the only conference room Gosper County has. I'm about to go in. But you're gonna want to get out here ASAP. I doubt the Bohns decided to choose Elwood as a vacation spot. _Teresa's voice echoed out of the phone. They traded a glance.

"Weren't the Bohns the hitman and his wife?" JJ asked. Garcia nodded.

"Yeah."

"How have the helicopter searches gone?"

_Nada. Nothing around the old Seager estate. But there's a lot of area around Elwood to cover. _

"We'll be out shortly."

_Call the Grand Island field office and they'll make arrangements to get you out here. Seager's aunt is working the clinic's night shift, so we'll have to stay here until then. Plus, I'm chaperoning Mrs. Bohn, and since I'm the only full agent out here then I'd rather not have to try and drive her back to Grand Island myself. _

"Understood." Strauss hung up. "JJ, Garcia, Jason, if you wouldn't mind. We'll head to the airstrip no –"

"I don't think so, Agent Strauss." Vick crossed her arms over her chest. "My people are missing too, and I am _not_ stepping back and _not_ doing anything to find them."

"I don't see that you have much of a _choice_," Strauss said. McNabb looked down at JJ, who was busy looking away and rubbing the back of her neck. "It's out of your jurisdiction."

"I don't care if it's out of my jurisdiction. I'm not sitting back and letting you interfere with my people."

"You would be stepping on the FBI, the Nebraska State Police, and the Gosper County Police by being –"

"Erin." Gideon cut in, and Strauss dropped off. "If we find them, and they are indeed being held together, you know as well as I do that our best outcome will come as much from predicting the actions of Seager as the actions of both our team and Chief Vick's detectives. We can't just guess what they will try. We'll need _someone_ there who'll know what to expect from them."

"Jason, may I remind you that you are no longer an agent and therefore really –"

"When we were in Colorado, at the standoff with the Septarians," JJ interrupted. "Rossi said the same thing, Chief Strauss. Our success or failure hinged as much on predicting the actions of the cult leader as the actions of Prentiss and Reid."

"How can we predict the interactions of ten separate people who we have never seen intera–"

"_You_ have never seen them interact." Vick's arms were still crossed firmly across her chest. "Might I remind you that we _have_ worked together?"

Strauss frowned, not willing to give in, but knowing it made the most sense. "Fine," she finally said, breathing in deeply through her nose. "You will accompany us. But you are not to exercise any of your authority in Nebraska. You are along only as a –"

"McNabb." Vick turned to the detective, who snapped up. "Get some clothes."

"Yes, ma'am." McNabb hurried off.

"Madeleine –"

"I'll get my case out of the car." Madeleine was immediately on her feet.

"Be at the airfield at noon," Strauss said reluctantly. "We'll meet you there."

#

"It's early enough." Rossi looked down at his watch. "I think it's best if we all go upstairs this time. We'll have time to get through this level."

"What about Hotchner?" Henry interjected.

"Rossi and I can go down and help him up the stairs once we figure out what's going on," Morgan answered. Rossi nodded.

"Then let's see what's up here. What're we waiting for?" Gus pointed up the stairs.

"Imminent death for the first person walking off the steps," Shawn said with a grin.

With a roll of his eyes, Rossi jogged up the stairs, followed closely by the others. At the top, the group stopped.

Surrounding them were walls of glass, leading into an open room ahead of them. Outside the walls stretched an obstacle course, outlined in a massive ropes course. Solid walls rose up to their right, obscuring their view to the far side of the building. There was close to a minute of silence, and then one quiet statement broke it.

"Guys," Prentiss said, almost inaudibly. "We – There's no way we can get Hotch through this."

There was even more silence as the impact of the statement rang through the air. Just the thought of leaving the heavily injured Hotchner to deal – by himself – with their captor had nearly killed the hopeful mood they'd had upon completing the maze and accessing the last floor between them and their potential freedom.

"I'll stay." Morgan finally said.

"Morgan, we can't ask you –" Surprisingly, it was Lassiter who spoke this time. "You have a better chance of –"

"No." Morgan shook his head, his voice firm. "I'll stay with Hotch. As soon as you guys get out and find civilization send people back for us." He took a deep breath. "Good luck." Without waiting for further argument, Morgan disappeared down the stairs.

"Morgan!" Reid yelled after him, but as he started onto the stairs the bottom door slammed shut.

"He has made his choice, Dr. Reid," their captor's voice echoed around them. "But for the rest of you, this is the final test. The exit door is on the other side of the building. Afterwards, you will have safe passage to the exit."

"You. Are. _Sick_." Henry finally lost his temper. "You're _forcing _someone to stay here, and you're probably going to kill him as soon as we're clear. We can't do that."

"We don't leave people behind," Reid agreed, really wishing he had someone to deliver the statement to.

"It's too bad, then." Elizabeth sounded rather amused. "Because that door will not open. You can't reach me, and you can't open that door. Unless you wish to starve, your only way to go is forward."

There was silence again.

"Look." They turned to Shawn. "Our only way to get help for Super Special Agent Hotchner is to get out of here. Our only way out of here is to do what she wants – you've said that repeatedly. This is just one more way for her to enjoy watching us stumble over each other, and if we want to prove her wrong then we need to get out of here. It's like . . ." Shawn stumbled for something. "Every single _Saw_ movie. It's all about tests and psychological stuff. I mean, I don't know, like, 'why us,' or about any of that victa-hoozits –"

"Victimology," Gus inserted.

"Whatever – that you've been throwing around, or any of that stuff. All I know is that the exit is over there –" Shawn pointed. "And we've got this stuff in between us. If we really wanna help Morgan or Hotchner, we've got to get out that door and find help . . . What?"

Rossi shook his head, hiding a laugh at the open-mouthed looks Shawn was getting from everyone except Gus. "I'm not sure they're used to you like this."

"Well, I'm out of here." Shawn strode through the door into the next room.

"I'm with him." Gus jerked his finger at Shawn before trotting after him.

The others followed him in, Rossi and Henry being the last two out. Rossi looked over at him.

"Before you ask." Henry held up his hand. "That's the son I was _trying_ to raise." Henry followed the others, and Rossi just looked down and shook his head before joining them.

"Looks like a wall," Lassiter was saying, examining the tall structure.

"I think there's a gap between it and the ceiling that we're supposed to –" Juliet stepped back to get a better view of the top. Shawn looked down at the floor as a pair of hardly noticeable lines jumped out at him.

"Juliet!" Shawn yelled.

"O'Hara!" Henry jumped at the same time.

Juliet's statement dropped into a scream as the floor opened up under her, and she disappeared. Shawn dove for her hand, but by the time he was by the hole she had vanished, and the trapdoor slammed back up.

"Oh, _god_," Prentiss groaned, dropping her head against the wall. "Not this."

"So she's going to systematically pick us off through the course, now?" Reid said. "Great. Just great."

"I can _not_ wait to meet this Elizabeth. I'm sure she's a wonderful, nice woman who would love to make me just shoot her."

"I'm not sure it can be self defense if we _all_ shoot her, Agent Rossi," Lassiter said, blankly staring at the floor that had swallowed his partner.

"For self defense, we only need to put one gun in her hand." Henry sighed. "Shawn."

Shawn hadn't moved from the floor, but he slowly pulled himself up. "Okay." His voice was almost inaudible.

"Let's take this one step at a time. And be _careful_."

#

Morgan sat down on the couch and looked at his supervisor, who was currently leaning his head back against his chair. "Hotch?"

"Mm? Morgan?" Hotchner opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Where's everyone else?"

"Upstairs. They're going through the third floor."

"So they're almost out?"

Morgan nodded.

"Did they send you down to –" Hotchner left the question hanging. Morgan sighed and looked down at his hands.

"Hotch, it . . . We couldn't have gotten you through it. It's an obstacle course."

Hotchner closed his eyes as the reality of the statement hit home. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew he was still bleeding from somewhere. It was a slow bleed, but he was lightheaded and tired, and knew that – depending on where they were, it could take them a whole day to reach civilization to report their location, and that was if they _didn't_ get lost.

"Hotch?"

Morgan's voice brought him back, and he opened his eyes. "I'm fine." But he knew he wasn't.

Hotchner didn't like to panic, but there were some situations where he couldn't help it. This was one of them. He swallowed it and straightened up slightly.

"It's gonna be okay," Morgan assured him. "We'll get through this."

"I know," Hotchner forced out before closing his eyes again.

To their surprise, a shaken and bedraggled Juliet O'Hara staggered back into the room, collapsing down on the couch next to Morgan.

"Wait." Morgan looked up, then back at her. "Weren't you just –"

Juliet's voice was all-but silent. "Th-there's trapdoors."

#

The two groups met up at the airstrip and boarded the BAU jet. Strauss planted herself behind the cockpit moodily and began reviewing the file, while Vick, Madeleine and McNabb settled in near JJ, Gideon, and Garcia.

"This. Is. Awesome," McNabb let himself say. "You guys fly in this all the time?"

"When we don't have a case we can drive to," JJ answered.

"How long is she going to be sulking?" Vick asked quietly with a low head-jerk towards Strauss. Gideon shrugged.

"Until the next time she gets her way."

###

A/N: And cookies for:

sfulton: It wouldn't be exciting if it wasn't a last-minute thing. And Gideon isn't going to be around long enough to get his hands on her, but just remember that there's several other pissed off federal agents who would be more than happy to oblige.

vampire: Yay? I'm glad you're thankful for something . . . Also, I'm thankful for the PM and hope you enjoyed my reply. Sorry about the delay, that whole "life" thing happened . . .

Wraith: I might have to get Shawn to say that. You will receive credit.

Seafrost: Something that isn't good, obviously.

Vivian: Running in heels is difficult but accomplishable. Getting tackled in heels, though, would mostly likely hurt like a bitch.

PinkHimeLacus: Reid and Shawn are about to have to step back on this floor, I have another great pair about to take center stage.

Firefaerie: I do plan on using the Mounties quote, but not until the end. ;)

Nekoharuhi, nokoamna, Anyone I missed: Thanks for reviews!

Special i-cookies and awards go to:

Nomad: You. Are. Awesome. And I mean, really awesome. And yes, Reid is, like, insanely smart, so I figured even if I didn't know how to do it he'd figure it out. And, obviously, you did too.


	15. Chapter 14: Dihydrogen Monoxide

A/N: You've lucked out tonight, my friends. It's either work on this or work on my senior project (hereafter called an "SMP"). Which do you think is winning?

Also, crap's 'bout to get real in Elwood:

**Chapter 14: Dihydrogen Monoxide, Now Non-Incriminating**

_He was always a rather stupidly optimistic man. I mean, I'm afraid it came as a great shock to him when he died, but, he was found dead at home. His head had been cut off, and so had his, uh... you *know*.  
[__Colonel Mustard, Professor Plum, and Mr. Green cross legs__]_

_- _Mrs. White, Clue

They topped the wall and landed on a rope course stretching to the far wall of the building. Underneath them was a long drop – at least seven feet.

"And this is why I _didn't_ go military," Rossi commented lightly.

"I hate these things," Henry groaned, immediately finding his leg stuck through one of the ropes. Lassiter and Shawn pulled him up.

"You need a hand, Reid?" Prentiss asked, balancing on a pair of ropes and trying not to laugh as he struggled to untangle himself from at least four different ropes.

"I'm _fine_, Prentiss." Reid valiantly freed his feet and balanced on a pair of ropes.

"You sure we can move on?"

"I'm sure, Rossi." Reid freed one of his arms and then pulled the other one out, flailing slightly before he grabbed another overhanging rope. "Okay."

Shawn and Gus fell back next to Reid, and they struggled through the course after their less-clumsy companions.

"I really don't like this." Gus ducked under a rope that Reid had let go of too fast.

"Sorry."

"S'ok."

"It's more annoying," Shawn said, swinging under a rope. "But kinda fun right now. Except for the trapdoors."

"Shawn, _I'm_ starting to want to shoot this girl." Gus stepped over a rope.

"Unfortunately we can't shoot her. We're gonna have to make sure she hasn't done this before." Reid almost tripped over a rope, and Shawn and Gus caught him. "Thanks."

"Any—"

Up ahead of them, the others were close to the visible corridor exit. Rossi and Lassiter had already stepped off the ropes, and were holding out a hand to Prentiss and Henry.

Prentiss mis-stepped, and several ropes disappeared as she vanished.

"Damn it!" Rossi snapped, trying to dive for her hand before she was gone.

"Prentiss?" Reid yelled up. There was no answer.

"Just get out of there, Reid." Rossi and Lassiter pulled Henry onto the flat ground before he could argue, then pulled the other three in.

"I'm starting to think she doesn't like women," Lassiter said. Rossi shrugged.

"Probably sees them as competition." He looked down at the gently sloping ramp. "Shall we?"

They nodded, with a quick look back at where Prentiss had been minutes before. "Wouldn't she want them to get out, though?" Henry finally asked. Rossi shrugged.

"Trust me, the delusion only has to make sense to them."

"Do you think . . .?" Gus let the question echo in the air.

"No. They're fine," Henry sternly answered. "She hasn't killed anyone, yet. Come on." He started off down the hall. As the others started to follow, scanning the floor for trapdoors, Reid suddenly jumped back from his spot between Shawn and Gus. A trapdoor had opened right where he'd been.

"Nice catch," Shawn said.

"I thought I felt it move," Reid said. "Habit, I gue –"

That spot of the hall opened up, and Reid dropped.

"Reid!" Shawn and Gus simultaneously dove for him as the others turned back. This time, the trapdoor didn't close – the floor dropped out from under them.

They slid down the now-formed chute and landed in a tangle of limbs and bodies. Shawn and Gus stopped themselves before they hit the others and started to help them untangle.

"_That_ was uncalled for." Rossi brushed off his jacket. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah." Lassiter self-consciously straightened his shirt. "Henry?"

"I'm fine."

Shawn glanced down at his arm, which had started to bleed through his shirt in the fall. "How much longer do you think we have before the exit?"

"Knowing her? Hours. This is insane." Rossi looked up the slope to where his coworker had been five seconds earlier. "She's probably not even going to _let_ us get to the exit. At all."

"We should try, though. She might." Lassiter sounded more hopeful than he felt, but he knew that the likelihood of them getting out was growing slimmer, if it hadn't disappeared already. With a deep breath, he stepped through the door into the next room.

Immediately, his hair stood on end – the electricity almost made the air around him pulse. There was a red substance coating the walls and the floor, and the copper smell that was as thick in the air as the static didn't leave him many guesses as to what it was.

Before he could warn them, the others headed into the room. Gus froze, eyes shooting around the room in panic. "Oh god. Oh –"

"Breathe." Shawn rubbed Gus' shoulder. "It's probably not even real blood."

Rossi, Lassiter, and Henry exchanged glance and shook their heads. It wasn't fake blood. But Gus didn't need to know that.

"Come on. The door's over there. And the sooner we're out of here, the better." Rossi swallowed as he thought he felt the ground move under him. "These are levels way too high to be healthy."

Shawn grabbed Gus' arm and started guiding him towards the exit. His head was pounding, but he still had enough sense around him to recognize that it'd be impossible to get Gus out of that room without help. "Come on."

"Shawn, I – I can't. I –"

Lassiter, to both their surprises, grabbed Gus' other arm. "Come on, Guster." Between the two of them, they began walking him towards the other door. Gus was shaking.

"You okay, Gus?" Henry asked. Gus shook his head _no_. "Come on. It's only a short way across."

Rossi had already gotten across the room and was standing just outside the next door. "It's fine in here. No blood, no electric charge."

Lassiter and Shawn gently pulled Gus forward towards the door. As they reached the middle of the room, something dropped out of the ceiling in front of them. As Shawn and Lassiter froze and let go of him, Gus screamed. Loudly.

Henry and Rossi joined them, the latter forcing himself to reenter the room. Hanging out of the ceiling was a blonde, quite deceased, man.

"He's one of the guys who abducted us," Lassiter said finally. Gus swallowed, eyes locked on the dead guy. "I remember him."

"I wasn't expecting a dead guy in the ceiling," Henry added. "Nice decorating touch."

"I can think of much better decorating choices." Rossi scanned the dead body. "Looks like massive stab wounds. It's probably his blood we're standing in."

"Well. That was interesting." Shawn looked over to check on Gus. "Gus? _Gus?_"

The four spun around, searching for their missing companion, until a gentle _whack-whack_ noise caught their attention and they looked down. A trapdoor hung open, gently bumping the chute beyond.

"So she distracted us this time," Rossi said.

"She's playing with us." Lassiter clenched his hands into fists. "This is insane."

"We'll debate this later." Henry shook Shawn, who was still staring down the hole in shock. "Right now, let's get out of here before my head explodes."

#

Both Prentiss and Reid had made their way back to the others, and given a better explanation to Morgan and Hotchner than the shell-shocked Juliet had, including some not-entirely familiar explicative language from Reid. They were currently all silent, Prentiss rubbing her ankle from where she'd twisted it in her fall, when a noise attracted their attention at the main door. Gus staggered in, pants from the knees down stained red, and a blank, terrified expression across his face.

"Gus!" Reid was on his feet, and he and Morgan helped Gus to one of the couches. "What happened?"

"I – it –" Gus shook his head. "Room. Blood. Body. I –"

"Are the others still okay?" Juliet asked, rubbing his shoulder. Gus nodded. "None of this is theirs?"

"N-no. S-still go-going through." Gus was starting to regain use of his voice.

"You sure none of this is theirs?" Morgan asked. Gus nodded. "Or yours?" Another nod.

"Why is she doing this?" Prentiss finally snapped, her head in her hands. "This is crazy, even for a borderline! Even before she latched onto Hotch, why was she attracted to us? Just because she could? This is insane!"

No one could figure out any way to argue with her.

#

They crossed the blood-soaked room and collapsed against the walls, heads still pounding from the electric charge. It was a small room, just big enough for the four of them.

"This isn't _fair_," Shawn finally said, dropping his head into his hands. "Why is she doing this? She's just . . . picking us off."

"We can't give up," Rossi said. "She wouldn't have put us through this without something planned. I have a feeling that she's already picked the people she wants to escape, and she'll let them out. And them only." He pulled himself to his feet. "We need to keep moving."

The other three pulled themselves up and, wiping small amounts of blood off their hands, looked at the door next to them.

"Shall we?" Rossi pushed open the door and let it fall open. There was a collective groan.

"Not again."

#

Teresa checked her watch. _2:30_. Another glance through the door informed her that Marcia hadn't moved. "What'd Grand Island say?"

"Their plane just left Santa Barbara and should land at Lexington Regional in two-and-a-half." Sage closed her phone as she joined Teresa at the door. "Any luck?"

"You bring my coffee?"

"You know I don't know what you want in coffee. I don't even drink it."

Teresa glared at her. "Fair enough. So they should be here by –"

"Five-thirty. We're about twenty minutes away from Lexington."

"Mrs. Seager's shift starts at five, I believe," Teresa said. "Hopefully she'll know where they're being held and we'll have somewhere to hit by the time they get here."

"I hope so." Sage looked through the window in the door. "You talked to her yet?"

Teresa shook her head. "I'm letting her sweat." She looked over at Sage. "Seriously. Just a cup of _coffee_. Or a _soda_. Something with _caffeine_. You, Officer Smith." The nearby officer jumped, looking over at her. "Can you man the recording equipment?" He nodded, and she turned back to Sage. "Seriously. _Caffeine_."

Sage shook her head and walked off with a short glare back. Teresa opened the door.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Bohn." She closed the door behind her and sat down at the table.

"You haven't read me my rights." Her mouth was set in a thin line.

"Oh, dear." Teresa shook her head sadly. "I guess you watch too many crime shows. Technically, I don't have to read them to you until now." She leaned forward. "So, in that case, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you. You may waive these rights at any time. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" She gave a curt nod. "A 'yes' to that question will not incriminate you."

"Yes."

"Thank you." Teresa leaned back in her chair. "Now, state your name for the record, please. That will also not incriminate you."

"Marcia Lynn Bohn."

"Maiden name?"

"Kolinskies."

"Are you married to Curtis Bohn?"

"Yes."

Teresa paused for a second, studying the woman across from her. "Would you like some water?"

Marcia jumped. "Huh?"

"Water. Liquid form of dihydrogen monoxide. Used to rehydrate people. Would you like some?"

"Um . . . sure?"

The door opened and Sage stuck her head through. "Soda for you, water for Mrs. Bohn."

"Thanks." Teresa grabbed the two bottles and set them down on the table, pushing the water towards her. "There you go."

"Thank you."

"Now, Mrs. Bohn." Teresa took a welcome swallow of soda before recapping the bottle. "We need to get down to business. You've no doubt heard about the several federal agents and several police detectives that are missing, right?"

"I heard something, yes."

"Would it surprise you . . ." Teresa opened her folder and pulled out the surveillance video still. "That we have you, on camera, aiding in the abduction of Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid from the area of Quantico, Virginia?"

"That's impossible. I haven't been to Virginia in years."

Teresa laid the picture down on the table and slid it towards her. "Then why has a top Quantico analyst matched your face here to your face here?" Teresa put Marcia's prison photo next to it before leaning back. She remained stubbornly silent. "This tall guy you're walking with is the agent in question. How did you get him to this SUV? Probably told him that you were suspicious – you thought someone had broken into it while you were inside. Where was your husband? Waiting to ambush him?" Teresa studied her as she took another nervous sip of water. "What'd you use to bring him down? Pavulon? We know all about the plan, Marcia. That you and your husband were hired by Elizabeth Seager to abduct five members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team – Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Dr. Reid here, and Derek Morgan. Wrapping Hotchner's car around a tree was a nice touch.

"You know he has a son, right? His wife got killed a few years back, so he's been juggling his job and raising his son. You wouldn't want his son to grow up without either parent, would you? How injured was he when you pulled him out of the car?" Marcia shifted in her chair slightly, but remained silent.

"What _I _don't understand . . ." Teresa skimmed through her folder again. "Is how you got at Morgan? His house was spotless, and we still haven't found his car.

"Come on, Marcia. We know you're involved. The entire bureau is out for blood, so you should start talking or you'll take all the blame for it. And for a record that's only been petty crime . . ." Teresa shrugged. "I'm not sure why you'd want to add to that, after you've done so well for the past ten years. Not even a traffic ticket."

Marcia said something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I think it's about time I found a lawyer," she choked out. Teresa stood.

"I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this," Teresa said with a sigh. "Sit tight. I'll call out to Grand Island and they'll send someone out shortly."

Teresa closed the door behind her and threw the folder down on a nearby chair. "Sonofabitch."

"Lawyered up?" Sage asked. Teresa took another drink.

"Yeah. I thought I had her, too."

"So did I. She was starting to look nervous."

"Probably why she lawyered up." Teresa pulled out her phone. "Keep an eye on her. I'll call Grand Island and get them to get her a lawyer."

"She's still cuffed, right?"

"Don't worry, you're surrounded by all five of Elwood's finest," Teresa muttered, patting Sage's shoulder. "She's not going anywhere." As Teresa walked off, dialing her phone, Sage rolled her eyes after her.

###

P.S. These aren't my favorite chapters, but they're a necessary evil in order to get to what I have planned _after_wards . . . insert cackle here. Also, don't expect another chapter for a few weeks, probably. These are to tide you over and beg forgiveness for the delay.


	16. Chapter 15: Stalking Gunshots

A/N: Hi, so, I'm alive. Kind of. Expect extremely sporadic updates. Extremely. Sporadic. Updates. Hence why the story will still be labeled as on "hiatus." When you add a spazzy computer to a hectic last-semester-of-college (crap, when did *that* happen) it means some things go on hold.

Still not my favorite chapters but I'm setting up what may be one of the more epic parts of this story, or so I hope.

**Chapter 15: Stalking Gunshots**

_This world's divided into two kinds of people: the hunter and the hunted. Luckily I'm the hunter. Nothing can change that._

_-Bob Rainsford, The Most Dangerous Game_

Morgan rubbed his head, finally moving to sit next to Reid. "You've been watching him, right?"

"Yeah," Reid nodded.

"So have I." Prentiss glanced back in Hotchner's direction.

"Noticed anything?"

There was a pause. "He's quieter than usual," Reid said unnecessarily.

"Thanks for the newsflash, Reid."

"Didn't think it was possible, to be honest."

"I think he's trying to keep pressure off his right side," Reid continued. "Probably broken ribs."

"But that's not enough to put him in this much pain," Prentiss said.

"When we found him and walked him out here he was favoring his left leg," Morgan said. "It didn't look broken but I don't know if they checked for breaks right afterwards."

"If the crash broke his femur that's a pretty impressive accident," Reid answered. "The femur is the strongest bone in the body. That might be why he's still bleeding. There's a lot of blood supply to the femur, and –"

"Either way, he needs help."

Prentiss rubbed her forehead. "Either way, Morgan, unless you can produce a phone, we aren't _getting_ him help."

"Unless our friend comes back, at which point –"

"Reid, she isn't going to let go of him. Not if she's fixated on him."

"Then there's nothing we can do that we aren't already doing."

Meanwhile, across the room, Juliet was still trying to calm Gus down. Gus had already kicked off his blood-soaked shoes, but couldn't figure out how to rip off the bottom of his jeans without a knife. Rossi, in fact, _had_ their only knife, and he was still upstairs.

"Gus, it'll dry, and then you'll hardly be able to feel it," Juliet assured him. Gus shook his head.

"No, it'll still – it'll still be there, and I don't want to even _know_ it's – _God_, I'm covered in blood –"

"Just – _breathe_, Gus. Come on. Just breathe. I doubt whatever that guy's name was –"

"—do you know how many blood-borne diseases there are, Juliet? I'm gonna get _something_ from him and oh _God_ I'm covered in blood and–"

"—had any of those diseases that you're worried about and as long as you don't touch the bottom of your pants you should be fine and–"

"—this is all Shawn's fault and it's not fair that he keeps dragging me into this stuff and –"

"—just don't focus on the blood and breathe and think about how close we are to being out of here and –"

"—I swear to God I'm going to kill him when we get out of here and then resurrect him and kill him again just for good measure and –"

"—we'll be out of here in no time and then you can find a new pair of pants and take a shower and it'll all be gone and –"

"—_God _I'm going to kill him and –"

"Calm down, guys," Morgan said. They glanced up to see the agents watching them. "Seriously."

#

"Any ideas?" Rossi finally asked as they stared their reflections in the mirror facing them.

For once, Shawn was at a loss. Two mazes in one day was _not_ what he'd hoped for when he woke up. Perhaps a nice food stand and maybe flaming laser beams or something, but _not_ a second maze. He looked down at his watch. 12:30. Had it taken them that long to get through the ropes? He could have sworn – Shawn shook his head and stepped into the mirrored maze.

"See anything, Spencer?" Lassiter asked. Shawn shook his head again.

"I see a lot of _me_s."

"Just what the world needs. More of you." Lassiter joined him. "You ever done these before?"

"Only in funhouses, and I hated them." Shawn glanced behind him, up the hall. "Well, there's only one way to get through these without going crazy." He stretched his hand out and touched the mirror. "Follow me."

Neither Rossi or Henry were happy with having those words emerge from Shawn's mouth, but nevertheless stepped after the other two into the hallway. "You sure you know what you're doing?" Rossi finally asked. Shawn turned to look at him.

"No, I'm not. But this is the best I can do." Still pressing one hand against the mirror, Shawn walked down until his hand hit air. He closed his eyes and thought. Judging by the last maze, their captor designed mazes the way anyone who wasn't a talented maze-designer did – a really simple, original path surrounded by random openings and complicated patterns. So that meant that it was usually beneficial to travel as far as possible in a straight line first before turning. Or at least he thought that's what it was. Or maybe it was turning back towards the door as soon as possible . . .

Either way, the opening to the left wouldn't work, and since they were trying to go down neither would the one to the top. Shawn opened his eyes.

"Right." He started off, heading as far down as he could.

He followed this principle for a while, calling directions out behind him, until they were in a long corridor running along what was probably the right side of the mansion.

"What's stopping you?" Henry asked as they stopped. Shawn looked at the hallway opening to his right, and then straight down.

"I'm not sure if we should branch off now or keep going straight."

"Oh."

"Stay here." Lassiter, applying Shawn's hand-on-mirror method, trotted down the hallway. "What're you looking for?"

"Well, for the spir— It depends on how far back the first corridor goes. Usually in mazes designed by amateur maze-people there are either long or short maze corridors that you want, and for her it seems to be long. Probably cheaper."

Lassiter looked back into the opening. "Looks like this one's pretty short compared to the other."

"Then we'll go that way." Shawn pointed to the right, and Lassiter rejoined them. "Come on."

Rossi shook his head. He was pretty sure he'd known what Shawn was _about_ to say before stopping himself. But right now, he wouldn't have cared if he'd said his whole 'spirits-telling-me' jumbo. It was working.

And Rossi hated mazes, so that was a good thing.

They turned left around another corridor and headed for the next one, branching off to their right. Shawn turned the corner. As Lassiter followed him the mirrored floor disappeared, and he dropped out of sight.

"Carlton!" Henry, right behind him, grabbed for his hand, but the chutes behind the trapdoors worked too well, and he was gone. The door closed, and Henry pushed the frozen Shawn forward. "Keep going. The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get rid of this girl and come back."

Shawn nodded, and Rossi and Henry were extra-careful when they crossed the trapdoor.

After several more turns and one fake-out when the straight passage wasn't the right one, the maze opened into another large glass room with a wide-open door at the end.

"Come on." Rossi moved forward into the lead. Not willing to run but trying to reach the door as fast as possible, they hurried through the wide hall towards the door.

Just as they reached it, Shawn yelped as the floor disappeared from under him. "Go on!" He managed to yell before the trapdoor disappeared and he slid down the slick wooden chute.

Henry tried to sprint back towards the trapdoor, but a wall zipped in front of them. "No, no, _no_!" He yelled, hitting it several times with his fist. Rossi finally grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Spencer, we –"

"That's my _son_ she just took, Agent Rossi!"

"And we'll come _back_ for him, if she doesn't end up taking us down first, okay? We've got to keep going forward. We're the only hope that they have now. All of them."

Henry grit his teeth but nodded, and they left the hallway to find an even larger one waiting for them. At the end furthest from them was a double staircase, leading down.

"Come on," Henry grumbled, and they hurried forward.

The stairs took them down two stories to what they figured was the ground floor, and directly ahead of them was a door surrounded by windows, through which streamed bright sunlight.

"Congratulations," Elizabeth said as they walked forwards. "You have been granted exit from the Mansion."

"What about the others?" Henry yelled in the general direction of the voice.

"They will remain in place until you have completed your final test."

"I thought the third floor _was_ the final '_test_,'" Rossi said. This girl was _really_ trying his patience.

"For many of your companions, yes. But for you, the final test is . . . finding civilization." From under the grand staircase they'd just come down stepped two of their kidnappers, holding rifles. "They will be following you and will prevent you from reaching your destination."

"Which is?"

"You _may_ learn. You are granted a ten-minute start on Curtis and Eric."

"I suggest you start running. Now." It was the blonde on the right who spoke.

"Good luck, Agent Rossi, Mr. Spencer." On cue, the door swung open, and one of the two men hit the start button on a stopwatch.

"I suggest you begin running, _Agent_." The blonde man said again, motioning to the door with his gun.

"I don't run from criminals," Rossi said disdainfully. "Mr. Spencer?"

"Let's get out of here."

The duo turned and walked out of the doors with one glance back. Once they stepped out of the house, the doors slammed shut.

"Are we running _now_?"

"Yeah." Rossi glanced back at the door, and the duo sprinted towards the tree-line. They reached it and ducked behind a few standing bushes, watching the door.

"Okay, we need a plan."

"Firstly we need to head downhill." Rossi and Henry looked at each other. "This is the Midwest. Most settlements are still located around water, and water –"

"Is usually at the bottom of hills." Henry looked back up at the building. "Which way are we going to head after that?"

"Not sure. I say we figure that out when we hit the bottom."

"We need to put as much space as possible between us and them. Let's go."

The duo started down the hill.

#

Shawn climbed painfully to his feet in the small room, rubbing his back. He pulled the door open and found himself down the third hallway, past where his father and Hotchner had been imprisoned before. With a groan he staggered into the diagonal middle hall and made his way back to the others.

He walked in almost unnoticed until he collapsed onto the couch next to Gus. "So."

"How was it going?" They didn't even seem surprised by his appearance.

"We were almost out." Shawn sighed. "Literally. Seriously, almost out. Like, prison-break style."

There was a brief sigh of relief.

"So if they don't show back up then they're outside?" Morgan asked. Shawn shrugged.

"I guess so. Unless _she_ tells us otherwise."

There was a loud _bang_. "Was that a gunshot?" Everyone jumped to their feet, including Hotchner, who immediately collapsed back into his chair.

"Force of habit," he muttered at everyone's look.

"Was that at them?" Juliet asked, pointing in the general direction of the gunshot.

"Who else would it have been at?"

"I'm sure they're fine." Morgan glared at Prentiss for her last statement. "Neither of them are stupid enough to get shot."

Lassiter earned the ire of everyone in the room with his off-handed reply. "We hope."

###

Special Awards go to:

LCT (You know who you are): Hi, I updated as per our agreement. Enjoy.

TDI Angel: Suspenseful? I've finally succeeded! Seriously, that comment means a lot.

LosingIt/LostinTranslation: PSYCHFIC! I knew I was forgetting something . . . Quite sorry about that. Have a chapter to cheer you up.

Neko: Thanks, you're welcome, and sorry that there's no Gideon in here.

Jessi/LeanneDasey: THANK YOU. Since I think I can't write worth crap most of the time that means a lot to me.

Wraith: Here's another chapter. Shawn _almost_ made it to the end. She's not _really_ done toying with him yet . . .

Vampire-act: Sorry, a little more than three weeks. . .

Sfulton: We never said Elizabeth 'killed' anyone herself. Oops, did I just say that out loud? As anyone who knows me can tell you, I don't think life is worth living without caffeine as well. I readily admit I have a problem. ;)

PhotoKitty, ElliJELLY: Thanks guys! Hope this isn't too slow for y'all.

Bear with me until NEXT YEAR when we return to our heroes – sorry, script's wrong. Give me a few more weeks. Kthxbai.


	17. Chapter 16: Underestimated

**A/N**: Ohai.  
Sorry about the hellacious delay. First there's my senior project, and then I discovered the joys of Mass Effect (in case you guys were unaware about the enormous 65-chapter ME story I just finished) and then I finally went . . . hell. I need to finish MBDwBaM.  
The problem was that I started writing MBD without a clear idea of how it was going to end and, as I was getting closer to the ending, I needed to figure out how I was going to do it. So . . . writer's block! But yeah, I admit my need to finish this story and am about to use my good NaNoWriMo skills to push through the writer's block . . . so here's Chapter 18, which I just finished editing and decided needed to get posted!

###

**Chapter 16: Never Underestimate Weak, Old Guys, Elizabeth**

"_Mr. Diamond, there's a bullet hole in your jacket."  
"You should see the other guy."  
__-Murder by Death_

Henry and Rossi hurried through the trees towards the bottom of a gentle slope, where they could see a break in the trees. A gunshot behind them echoed in the woods.

"I guess that's the 'ready-or-not?'" Rossi said.

"Probably."

The duo picked up their pace, sprinting down the hill while avoiding trees before suddenly breaking into an open field.

"Shit." Henry glanced back behind him. "Of course there's no cover."

"They're still ten behind us. Come on." Rossi started to sprint across the field, Henry not far behind him. Halfway across, Henry stumbled as his leg caught a groundhog hole, and he caught himself as he fell to the ground.

"Mr. Spencer!" Rossi sprinted back to him. "You okay?"

"Not sure what I did." Henry pulled himself to his foot and jumped over onto his uninjured leg. "I think it's only sprained." He tried to put weight on it. "Ow –"

"Come on." Rossi pulled Henry's arm around his shoulders and they started half-running, half-hobbling towards the next line of trees. They made it into the trees and stopped to catch their breath, and Henry collapsed against a tree. "Let me see this."

"Go ahead." Henry bit his lip as Rossi pulled his pant leg up slightly, examining his ankle. He was silent for a while, staring at it. "You still there?"

"You might have broken it," Rossi said finally.

"Go on then." He waved Rossi away. "I'll slow you down, and there's no guarantee that they'll kill me." Henry knew he was lying – they were both pretty sure that the duo's job, at this point, was to kill. Rossi shook his head.

"I don't think so. Come on."

"I'm serious, Agent Rossi. _Go_. It's more important that _someone_ tells them where we –"

Rossi pulled Henry to his feet and looped his arm over his neck again. "We're all getting out of here, or we're all going down together," he snapped. "Okay?"

"Whatever you say," Henry said with a grin forced through gritted teeth.

They glanced behind them and saw their pursuers break out of the trees. The duo broke into a shuffling run through the trees, finding themselves on a sloping hill.

"Let me know if you need a break," Rossi said, eying the slope for an easy way down.

"If you're insisting on dragging me, we're not going to sto–"

There was a gunshot from behind them and Rossi stumbled, sending them rolling down the hill they found themselves on. After a second of pause, Henry painfully drug himself over to the agent. _Well, if it wasn't broken before, it is now._

"Agent Rossi. _Agent. Rossi_."

"I'm fine." Rossi sat up, one hand pressed on his shoulder. Henry didn't miss that there was something red coating his hand.

"No you aren't." Henry pulled his hand away. "You got hit?"

"I'm fine," Rossi insisted again. He tried to move and, in complete contrast to his previous assertion, winced repeatedly.

"We need to stop the bleeding."

Rossi glanced behind him. "We don't have time. That shot means they weren't far behind us."

"I don't care." Henry glanced up. "There's an outcrop right here, it should block us from view."

Rossi glanced up. "Can you get back in there?"

"Yeah, I should be able to."

Through a combined effort of Henry's arms and Rossi's legs, the duo managed to push themselves back against the outcrop. Henry pointed at Rossi's shoulder. "Now let me have a look."

He shook his head. "Fine." Rossi shrugged out of the right side of his jacket. "See if you can use this. I don't know if I can move my arm, though. Knife's in my pocket."

"You sure? This is a nice jacket."

Rossi grimaced. "I can't wear it if I'm dead. Besides, the bullet hole ruins it a little bit, don't you think?"

"Good point." Henry carefully managed to fix the jacket against the wound, using a few artful slices of the knife to loosen the jacket up. "Luckily I think it's a through-and-through, so it'll be easier to repair."

"Yeah. Once we get out of here."

A stick crunched somewhere above them, and the duo immediately fell silent. Henry's hand gripped the knife, as if holding it would somehow be of use against the guns possessed by their hunters.

"You see them, Eric?"

"Nah. Must have started moving on already."

"With the way they went down you shoulda hit one of them."

"Yeah, well, these cops –" There was a smug sort of laugh from the top of the hill – "They can be hard to kill sometimes. We'll stay up here and follow the gully, see if they're heading towards town."

Steps indicated that they were moving off. Henry and Rossi released breaths they weren't aware they were holding. "They gone?" Rossi finally asked. Henry glanced around the outcrop.

"Yeah. I think." Rossi, wincing, climbed to his feet before holding out his hand out. Henry carefully put his arm around Rossi's shoulders, making sure to avoid the wound. "You okay?"

"I'll live." Rossi glanced up. "We shouldn't keep going along the gully."

Henry nodded. "Agreed. Think we can make it up the hill?"

Rossi shook his head. "No. But we should try."

They managed to limp up the other side of the gully and after a short and celebratory breather continued south, trying to keep as low a profile as possible but forced to stop every few minutes for one of the two to catch their breath. Both of them knew that the odds of them getting out of the woods grew slimmer with every pause — Henry was moving slowly and Rossi knew he was losing blood — but they also knew that a house full of their friends (and one relative) relied on them finding someone, anyone, to rescue them. That knowledge, at some point, became the only thing forcing the duo to move on.

On yet another breather, Rossi squinted through the trees. "Is that a clearing up there?"

"God," Henry muttered. "Not another one — hang on." Henry squinted this time. Something glinted in the sunlight — something metal and possessing a roof. "I think there's a building in there."

Rossi stared for a few minutes before nodding. "You might be right. We'll head that way, and hope our friends haven't hit there first."

"With the way our luck's been running, they have." Henry nodded as Rossi pushed off of the tree he was leaning up against and helped him to his feet. "But there might be a phone."

Reaching the questionable gap in the trees they spotted a small trailer nestled against the woods, which opened to a wide expanse of harvest-able rye or wheat or some other grain product. Large double doors indicated that it was some sort of motor shed. An enormous combine, its red sides glistening in the sunlight, stood quietly next to the building.

"Think anyone's home?" Henry asked.

"Don't know." They made it to the door and Rossi glanced behind him. "Hope so."

Henry knocked. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

The door opened, a heavyset, bearded man eying them disapprovingly. There were motor oil stains over his pants and hands, indicating that he'd been working on something. "Can I . . . help you?" He asked suspiciously, scanning their bedraggled appearance.

"Look," Rossi said. "I don't have my credentials. But I'm Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, with the FBI. We've been held just –"

"Shit!" The man's eyes widened. "Get in here." They pulled themselves through the doors and he closed them. "Must have been the shots I was hearing. Thought it was just a poacher."

"Yeah, those were for us." Rossi let go of Henry, who slumped into a plastic lawn chair. "Look, I've been shot, and he may have broken his ankle. We need –"

"I don't have a phone out here," he admitted. "This is just my emergency farm shed. Lots of prairie dogs out here damage my equipment. Cell's out in the field somewhere, growing a cell-phone tree." Rossi and Henry managed a tired laugh. "But I just finished fixing my combine. I can take you back to my house."

Henry leaned back, letting Rossi do the talking. "Sir, that would be _excellent_."

The farmer shuffled them outside and helped them into the combine. "It's going to be crowded, but it's all I can do."

"It's better than trying to walk," Henry admitted.

With painstaking slowness the combine trundled along a farm road, cutting in between two fields. Rossi glanced behind him, spotting their pursuit emerging from the woods. A rare sigh of hopeful relief escaped him.

"What's your name?" Henry asked.

"Todd. Todd Pettus." He shifted into a different gear and the combine picked up speed. "Heard about you on the radio, but they said it was being broadcast out of California so I didn't pay it much mind." They hit a bump, and both of them winced. "But it makes sense. There's been two FBIs from Grand Island down in town all day, so the missus says."

"Where, exactly, are we?" Rossi asked next as they neared the farmhouse.

"Nebraska. Right by Elwood." He stopped, jumped down, and helped them down. "Phone's right inside, the wife should help you. I'll go back into the field so whoever was chasing you'll think I'm just dropping by the house, okay?"

"Thank you."

"No problem." Todd walked them to the door and then hurried back to his combine as they knocked. A petite brunette cracked open the door.

"Can I help you?"

"We need to use your phone."

#

"Now where the hell did they go?" Curtis snapped, scanning the field. All that he saw was a farmer in an International combine going about his harvesting business.

"What if they talked to that guy?" Eric pointed at the combine.

"Well, if that's the case, there's nothing we can do. They're out. Besides, do you know anyone in their right mind who'd help two guys staggering out of the woods like they're high?"

Eric shrugged. "Good point. Let's keep looking through here and we'll find them. If we hit one of 'em, they probably didn't make it this far."

"Yeah. We'll look along the bottom of the hill here."

#

"Are you Mrs. Anna Seager?"

The woman at the desk looked up. "Yeah. Why?"

"Teresa Flannigan. FBI." Teresa held up her badge as she glanced around the nursing home. "I need to talk to you about your niece, Elizabeth Seager."

"Oh, god." Anna rubbed her forehead. "What did she do this time?"

"_This_ time?"

"Well, after she got the money from Steve it's all been downhill."

"So you've . . . talked to her?"

"Once or twice. I haven't heard from her for about a year now. Why?"

Teresa opened her mouth, ready to explain the situation, when Sage suddenly sprinted into the office. "Teresa. Screw that."

"What?" She turned around. The entire office was silent now. Sage held up the scanner.

_Ambulances and police needed at Drive 245 along U.S. Route 283. Two adult males. Gunshot with minor injuries. Reported to be a missing federal agent. _

Teresa grabbed the scanner. "Dispatch, 10-4. Federal agent reporting to scene." She pushed it back at Sage. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back." They sprinted back to the SUV. "What time is it?"

"5:20."

Teresa grit her teeth as she pulled out of the lot, sirens and lights blaring. They flew down the road to Drive 245, where they slid into park in front of the house. Teresa and Sage jumped out of the car and Teresa banged on the door.

"FBI!" The door opened a crack.

"Can I see your badge?" She handed it through. Seconds later, the door opened. "They're in here."

Teresa and Sage walked into the living room. "Agent Rossi?" Teresa asked. He looked up.

"Wait. Ms. Flannigan?"

"Yeah. It's me. _Agent_ Flannigan now. I've been working on the case." Teresa sat down. "Are you okay?"

"Just shot. That's all." Rossi pointed to his jacket. "How'd you –"

"Got put in Grand Island and was handed this case. Sage heard the ambulance call over the scanner."

"Okay. What's going on?" Henry held his hands up. "You know each other?"

"Bio containment spill four years ago," Sage, Rossi, and Teresa said in unison.

"You are . . .?" Teresa left the question hanging.

"Henry Spencer."

"Okay. Enough pleasantries." Teresa leaned forward as more sirens sounded, and all five Gosper County officers and several ambulances pulled up next to the house. "I need to know where the others are. Chief Strauss, JJ, and a few others are on their way, and we're going to go after them."

"Across this field." Henry pointed in the general area. "Back in the trees, probably about –"

"Less than a half-mile in, I'd say," Rossi said. "We rode in on the combine with Mr. Pettus."

EMTs rolled into the room. Rossi and Henry shared an identical glare.

"Look," Rossi said. "I don't know if Elizabeth was there or not. But Hotch is _not_ good. He needs medical aid. _Now_."

"He's in good hands," Sage said. "Go. Get yourself taken care of."

With much argument about them, Rossi let himself be led to the ambulance and Henry was forced onto a stretcher because of his leg. Teresa and Sage followed them out.

"Sage. Call the plane. Tell them to pull off at Drive 245 instead of going into Elwood. I'll grab one of the officers and see if I can find this house."

Sage nodded and walked away, and Teresa grabbed the five police officers milling around.

"You guys ever done a raid?" They nodded.

"Once," Officer Smith replied.

"Good. Let's see if we can borrow two ATVs from the Pettuses, and Officer Smith, you and I'll head out to see if we can find this house."

#

Elizabeth Seager watched over the camera as the small group left laughed amongst themselves, nervousness evident in their voices and manners. She knew that they didn't know what was waiting for them, pending the outcome of Agent Rossi and Mr. Spencer's excursion. And she liked that nervousness – it was all from her. _Her_.

A piece of brunette hair fell across her vision and she flicked it back annoyingly. She hadn't heard back from Curtis or Eric, and it was beginning to annoy her. They should have taken the duo down by now. Seriously. They were two old guys who'd been without water for two and a half days. They couldn't have been _that_ hard to find.

She watched as Agent Morgan walked over to Hotchner and started talking to him, the voices of the others masking their conversation. They were all too close to him. That meant they all needed to go. She hadn't meant to become attached to any of her captives, but there was just _some_—

Her phone rang, and she picked it up on the first trill. "Hello?"

_Ms. Seager, this is Curtis. We lost track of the two._ He sounded out of breath, like he was running. _Eric's down – two cops came out on four-wheelers. One of 'em said she was FBI. We exchanged fire but he got shot. Twice. I couldn't get him._

"Just get out of there and report back to me." Elizabeth was furious. _How dare he fail?_

_I'm gettin' to the reservoir, but they're gettin' close to the house. You want me to –_

Elizabeth toyed for a second with the idea he was proposing, watching the scene on the muted screen. "No. We'll let them get out, and then you can hunt them down outside. They won't leave Nebraska until they've found us, so that gives us time."

_Yes, ma'am. _

"Head back here, and we'll talk about getting you another partner."

_That'd be good. I don't like my chances solo against the Bureau. _

"Hurry up." Elizabeth slammed down the phone and sat back in her chair. "It isn't fair!" She yelled at the screen.

###

**A/N**: Yay! Our fearless heroes are almost out of the woods - literally. So Hotch's I've-Been-Bleeding-To-Death-For-Months-Because-My-Author-Sucks-And-Won't-Get-Me-To-A-Hospital stint is nearly over! Look for more updates in the near future - hopefully this week. Maybe I can finish this before I start graduate school in early September . . . yeah. I doubt it. Ah well, I'll make a valiant effort for you all. :)


	18. Chapter 17: Missing SWAT Teams

**A/N: **I'll try to write a lot more while I'm getting killed by the hurricane attacking the East Coast this weekend. This is the last chapter I have written right now. Hopefully, it won't take long to wrap this up. It's looking to be around 20 or 25 chapters.

_It should be just off there.  
That must be it!  
Why has the car stopped? _

_. . . .  
It's frightened._

_-Clue_

**Chapter 17: Missing SWAT Teams**

Strauss hung up her phone. "They found them."

"What?" The single word was said almost in unison.

"They found Mr. Spencer and Agent Rossi. They're currently at a hospital near where we'll be landing, but Agent Flannigan is trying to locate the house where the others are being held."

"Which one?" McNabb asked.

"Which – oh. Senior."

"How are they?" Vick asked, half turned towards Strauss.

"Herriman didn't tell me."

"Either way they're probably suffering from dehydration, so they'd need fluids," Gideon said, allaying the others' worried looks.

"We're going to land and then accompany a SWAT team from Grand Island down to the house," Strauss continued. "Agent Flannigan is currently out trying to find it. As soon as she does, the Gosper county and a few Nebraska State officers will secure the area, but won't assault the house until we're there."

The plane started to descend to the runway, and gently set down. They lugged bags down and hurriedly threw them into one of the SUVs before getting into the vehicles. Strauss climbed into the passenger seat of the first one.

"Chief Strauss, we're about twenty away from our destination. Fifteen with the lights on."

"Where's the SWAT we were told about?" JJ asked, looking out the window. The agent driving sighed.

"Grand Island forgot, and they're driving straight there."

"How far away is Grand Island?" Vick had climbed into the same SUV, primarily to make sure that Strauss wouldn't be withholding information.

"About an hour. You can do it in forty-five with sirens."

"How far away are we from Drive 435?"

"Fifteen. With sirens."

"Get going," Strauss ordered. With a nod he threw the SUV into gear and they blared off the runway, lights already going.

#

Teresa and Officer Smith had penetrated the woods, but found that the ATVs were having problems with the dense underbrush. Teresa's slacks already had several tears from thorns, and she was growing more irritated with each thorn bush her ATV found. Officer Smith didn't look any happier.

They weren't very deep into the woods before the hair on Teresa's neck stood up. She stopped, and Smith pulled in next to her.

"What's going on?"

"Sh." Teresa scanned the woods. Smith listened. "Someone's out there."

"There," he hissed, pointing, before they took cover behind the ATVs.

"FBI," Teresa yelled. "Come on out!"

A bullet _dinged_ off the ATV, and in seconds Teresa and Officer Smith had returned fire. Seconds later, a loud rustling from directly ahead of them revealed a man, turning to sprint away. The duo took aim, fired, and he dropped.

As the forest went silent, Teresa sprinted forward, kicked his rifle away from him, and leveled her gun at him. "Smith!"

The officer followed her, and started to cuff him. He yelped as it pulled on a gunshot wound in his shoulder. "You are under arrest for assault of two law enforcement officers. Where are you hit?"

"Shoulder. Ass," the man groaned. Teresa pulled a wallet out of his back pocket.

"Eric Morton," she read. "Well, Morton. You alone out here?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "There's someone else out here."

"Gone by now," Morton insisted. "Across . . . across the lake . . ."

"Where's Elizabeth Seager?"

"Who?"

Teresa resisted the urge to hit him. "Take him back. I'm heading forward."

"Alone? That isn't –"

"I doubt his friend is around anymore after we shot him. This is a small operation, so to have more than two gunmen out here trying to stop Agent Rossi and Mr. Spencer would be improbable. Especially when we have one of them in custody already."

"Okay. But you ring if anything –"

"I will. And I'll turn right back around." She clapped his shoulder. "I'm a farm girl. I know how to get the hell out of woods on a four-wheeler."

With a grin, Smith pulled Morton to his feet and helped him limp to the ATV. Teresa climbed back on hers, adjusting her vest, before starting it and driving up the hill.

After dodging outcrops of rocks, large trees, and a few deer, Teresa found herself in a small clearing. The ATV zoomed across it, bouncing over a large groundhog – _or were they prairie dogs out here?_ – hole nearly invisible in the ground. Teresa swore, straightened the vehicle out, and continued forward.

In the next branch of the forest, the trees started to clear out suspiciously. She pulled up on the edge of the strange clearing, almost immediately pulling up her mic.

"Sage."

_Go for Sage._

"I've found a really big, pretty damn strange house out here. I think I've found them."

_Okay. Bringing you up on the GPS. We'll head out to meet you._

"Copy."

_Strauss and them just pulled in. We're all pulling back out and we'll meet you up there. There's a small access road from Drive 425 we can take._

"Copy. Just hurry up. Mr. Spencer said that Hotchner was in bad shape."

_I know, I was there. Coming at you_.

Teresa looked back up at the almost window-less structure with a simple headshake. _Crazy_.

Back at the farmhouse, Sage waved to the SUVs, stopping them from getting out. "Hold on! Hold on!" Strauss rolled down her window as the driver of the second SUV rolled down his. "Turn around. We need to head up that road there –" she pointed. "—because Teresa found the house, and she's waiting for us up there."

"She's sure?" Strauss asked.

"Positive." Sage looked behind them. "Where's the SWAT team?"

"Grand Island forgot to send them," the agent driving Strauss repeated.

"Damn it." Sage rubbed her head. "T's gonna be pissed. Someone give me a ride."

Sage climbed into the back of the SUV carrying Madeleine, Gideon, Garcia and McNabb, and they set off down the farm road with sirens blaring.

"Hm," McNabb said from the other side of the car. They looked over at him.

"What, Buzz?" Madeleine asked. He shrugged.

"Nothing, just . . ." He unbuckled and pulled his and Vick's Kevlar vests into the back seat.

Sirens attracted Teresa's attention about a minute later, and three SUVs slid into the small clearing, followed by police cars and two ambulances. As the doors opened and people filed out, Teresa tried to look around the ambulances.

"Where's my damned SWAT?" She yelled in Sage's direction as the analyst led the others towards her. JJ was busy pulling on her vest, while Vick and McNabb discreetly did the same outside of Strauss' vision.

"Grand Island forgot to send them out. They're a half-hour away."

Teresa threw her hands in the air. "We don't _have_ a half damn hour! Seager's a loose cannon, if her delusion's devolving! We don't know what she's going to do when she realizes we're here." She drew her gun and checked the clip. "We've got to go in."

"Wait," Strauss said, interrupting Teresa's tirade. "You _need_ to wait for the –"

"Not going to happen," Teresa said with a slight scoff. "I doubt anyone except our guys are in there anyway, and if you want Agent Hotchner to die on you then we can hang tight out here and wait for my office to get their ass in gear."

Strauss realized that public opinion was against her, as the police officers were all ready to knock in the door themselves. "Go ahead." She turned to see Vick and McNabb holding their weapons ready, vests fastened. "Chief Vick, I–"

"They need a hand," Vick said simply. "I'm not about to let five police officers and four federal agents try to clear the building themselves."

"Come on." Teresa jerked her head before heading for the door. The entire clearing was silent as she beat her hand on the door. "FBI. Anyone home?"

When no answer came, she stepped back and slammed her foot into the door, sending it flying open.

"Is she always like this?" Strauss asked Sage, who was standing next to Madeleine, Gideon and Garcia.

"Basically," Sage and Madeleine answered simultaneously.

Two of the cops immediately hurried up the stairs, guns at the ready. Teresa eyed the side of the hall they were in.

"There's more over here." She knocked on the wall. It was hollow. "Look for a door!"

Vick was down by the stairs, tapping on the wall. McNabb found the door first. "Down here!"

"Get it down!" Teresa sprinted down the hall towards them as McNabb kicked the door in. They found themselves in a smaller room, another door set dimly in the corner. "Get this down."

"Uh – okay." McNabb tried to kick it in, but it stayed closed. "It's –"

"Move." Teresa took his place and tested it. "It's a stronger lock. Look out." Taking aim, she fired.

#

"That came from in here." Morgan was on his feet instantly. They'd been trying to make out the dim voices they could hear outside, but apart from knowing that several vehicles bearing sirens had pulled up, they had no idea what was going on.

"Are there more accomplices we don't know about?" Juliet asked. The others shrugged.

"I hope not," Reid said simply.

To their surprise, the room flooded with four recognizable faces and a few unknown police officers. They lowered their guns.

"You okay?" Teresa asked, lowering her gun.

"Hotch needs attention. Now," Morgan answered. JJ hurried over.

"Clear this floor," Teresa said, and the policemen hurried out. "I need EMTs in here ASAP. Come in the door at the back." She hurried over to Hotchner. "You okay, sir?"

"I think I'll live," Hotchner answered heavily. "And I thought we were trying to keep you _out_ of the FBI."

"Eh, well, putting me in Nebraska basically did the same thing."

"Chief, this was really weird," Lassiter started as Vick stopped in front of them. "I wasn't –"

"Just . . ." Vick held her hand out flat. "Shut up." Lassiter snapped his mouth closed. "Are you four okay?"

"Basically," Juliet said.

"You need to do something about –" Vick moved her hand around her face, indicating Juliet's raccoon-ized eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"McNabb. How you feeling?" Shawn clapped the detective on his back.

"Uh, fine. How're you?"

"Great. Just great," Shawn said. "So, uh, you guys know what happened to my dad, right?"

"He's up at the closest hospital. You'd have to ask them though." McNabb pointed at Teresa, who was currently talking to the agents. An EMT group ran past them towards Hotchner. Another EMT team was right behind them, and stopped at the group.

"Are any of you injured?"

"He is." Juliet pushed Shawn forward.

"I am not!" He looked back at the EMTs. "Just scraped up, that's all."

One of the EMTs pulled the polo off his arm. His arm was bright red from blood, and he hadn't been moving it since he'd fallen out of the chute. Shawn winced as one of them poked it.

"Bullshit," one of the EMTs said. "You'll be lucky if you didn't tear a ligament or something. Come on."

"Go on, Shawn," Juliet insisted.

"Mr. Spencer," Vick inserted.

"Okay. Okay. I'm going." Shawn let the EMT lead him out, and the others waved the remainders to the agents.

"You sure none of you are hurt?"

They collectively shook their heads. "Just some bumps," Gus said.

"Then what's all the bloo—"

"Not ours." Juliet cut McNabb off and jerked her head at Gus' face, about to dance through several shades of tan. McNabb nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Well, that's good then."

"Where are we, anyway?"

"Nebraska."

"Aren't you a little . . ." Lassiter left off the end of his question. Vick shrugged.

"Yeah. But the FBI forgot the SWAT team, so we helped pick up the slack."

"They _forgot_ the SWAT team?" Gus asked, incredulous.

"I'm still not sure how that happened."

The EMTs rolled Hotchner out, accompanied by the agents.

"We may as well get out of here," Vick said. Teresa stopped as they passed.

"You all okay?" she asked. They nodded.

"Who are you?"

"Special Agent Teresa Flannigan." It looked like she was about to extend her hand, then decided against it. "Come on. You've been in here long enough."

As they made it outside, Sage ran towards the stretcher. Reaching it, she leaned over slightly. "Aaron. You okay?"

"Sage, what are –"

"We've been doing the footwork. What happened?"

He shook his head. "That accident. That's all."

"I'll ride with him," Sage called back to Teresa.

"Go ahead." They disappeared around the SUVs and Teresa reached the group of people. Madeleine was walking Shawn back to the ambulances.

"Seriously," Garcia yelled as they walked towards her. "I'm installing GPS in _all_ of you!"

"You used that threat before, baby girl. It still hasn't happened."

Garcia looked ready to retort before EMTs shuffled them towards the waiting ambulances. JJ, Garcia, Teresa, and Strauss headed after them.

And in the commotion, no one noticed Gideon quietly disappear into the night.


End file.
